Mad Love
by Wishes2Dreams
Summary: Who was that hot chick at the bar? And why was she so familiar? And just why did he care again? Beetlejuice finds himself torn between his afterlife-long dream of getting back to the land of the living or getting chummy with the infamous deal-breaker who wrecked said dream in the first place. (Movie-centric)
1. Hello There

_Hello all! This is a fic I wrote quite a while back, and just never uploaded. I'll be posting it as I proofread the chapters and fix things here and there. I usually write stories in another fandom, and I loved it, but life got in the way (major, major changes) and I'm out of the swing of things. I've been gone for some time and I have an unfinished fic that I'd love to finish there as well (not Beetlejuice related), but I'll have to do some work to it first, so I figured since this was already something I'd finished long ago, that it would be a good way to get back into writing. I really hope you guys like it. Beetlejuice is one of my favorite movies of all time, and I really find his character hilarious. This is my first fic of him. **Warning** \- it is crass and offensive quite often, with much gratuitous profanity. Lots of sexual innuendo and jokes. It's not meant to offend, just to entertain and hopefully give you a chuckle or two. This is just how I see our favorite poltergeist, and I hope it stays true to his character. I hope you like it, and if not, that's okay too, I'll just be happy that ya gave it a shot. _

* * *

Mad Love

Chapter One: Hello There

Beetlejuice let out an indulgent sigh after greedily throwing back a shot of the stoutest whiskey the afterlife had to offer. He carelessly wiped his grungy mouth on a striped sleeve, leaning on his elbow against the bar. A woman, who's face seemed to be smashed flat by a... (waffle iron? A really, really fast tennis racket? How the hell should he know?)...an "unknown source", was nonchalantly wiping at a greasy glass with an even greasier old rag.

Beetlejuice leaned forward, a devilish grin looming on his slimy lips. "Hey beautiful...How's about another round for yours truly?" He looked on as she sighed quietly, rolling her eyes (Who the hell was she, anyway?), while pouring him another shot. He glared at the bartender, amused with her clear sense of defeat, while lighting up a smoke.

The bar was cast in a dim, red-hued light. The smell of alcohol, smoke, and, of course, copious helpings of various bodily odors drifted about the place. A man in a suit and tie - axe promplty lodged in skull - sat playing old ragtime tunes on an ancient, cobweb-adorned piano. _Ah, my kinda joint,_ Beetlejuice mused. _Now, what to do, what to do?_

Feeling rather bored, he swiveled around on the decrepit bar stool, scanning the area for incoming females that hadn't had the chance to slap him silly yet. His eyes narrowing, he spotted a potential suspect to be the victim of his charms. She was curvy, had nice cans, and minimal burn damage (that was _always_ a bonus), and she had plopped herself just a few seats down.

Chuckling darkly to himself, he invited himself to slide on over. "Hey there, doll." Beetlejuice began smoothly, snaking an arm around her shoulder. She startled from the unwanted touch, looking at him in (nope, definitely not disgust, no way)… _admiration?_

"And just who are you?" the woman scoffed, eyeing the grimy hand on her shoulder in an act of repulsion.

"Ah, ah, ah! The real question is, who do you want me to be? Either way, I can rock your world. Or, you can just rock mine. Hell, I don't give a fuck who rocks who, as long as there's some rockin', if ya get mah drift." he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. He leaned in close, whispering roughly in her ear, "And by that I mean you rockin' on mah d- "

That, of course, was the part where he saw stars. A quick, forceful slap to the face, and the woman was walking briskly out of sight.

"Oh, yeah? Fine then, be that way! Bite me, you rug-burned bitch!" Yeah, that definitely helped his mood lighten again. No, wait, it was still going down. Damn it! "CAN'T A GUY GET A FUCKIN' DRINK AROUND HERE?!" he yelled, his misplaced rage and damaged male ego still stinging.

The bartender rolled her eyes once more, bringing Beetlejuice yet another drink in a vain attempt to shut him up for more than five seconds.

Okay, _now_ his mood was lifting. He wiped the alcohol from his lips once more, taking an extra-long drag off his cigarette.

* * *

Time had crept into the wee morning hours, and Beetlejuice set at the bar in a dazed, alcohol-infused stupor. He kept wondering to himself why the flat-faced broad suddenly had a twin, and why the fuck they had cut him off from his beloved drink of choice, when he was merely getting started? "Heh _...Women_." he slurred drunkenly, as the two, suddenly much hotter twin waffle chicks looked at him with that strange admiration that was written on most women's faces when they gazed upon him.

He grinned lecherously. "Hey...uh...I didn't know you had a sister. Whoa, now lemme' just say..." he rambled on, hands held out and eyebrows up. "That I don't know about you fine ladies, but I'd definitely be up for some menage-a-threesome shit right about now! Know whaddimean...? Hey! Hey? Where'd ya go?" baffled, he looked to find the two hot bartenders to be nowhere in sight. Not every woman could handle the old B-man, he thought smugly to himself.

Through the fog of alchohol, he slowly searched about the place, to find only a few stragglers left behind, most passed out or still drowning in their sorrows. The joint had been deathly quiet for the longest time, and with no booze or potential ass in sight, Beetlejuice decided to call it a night. Now if he could only remember where his house was...

He slowly rose to his feet, swaying to and fro and wondering who the fuck kept moving the floor back and forth, when it was clearly meant to be stationary. Next time, he'd have a word with the owner about that.

Suddenly, he whipped about, startled by the sudden onset of melancholy, yet hauntingly beautiful piano music. His ass firmly planting on the floor from his clear lack of balance, he grumbled, rubbing the back of his head from the impact. His green eyes narrowing in on the mysterious sound, he dually noted that a really, really hot chick was playing said piano.

As the sorrowful melody churned out, he staggered to his feet, more than willing to gain a closer look. What kinda dame would be in a place like this after hours? Most women cleared out way before this time, especially if he was present. So what if most women hadn't aquired the taste for ole' Beetlejuice? That's what hookers were for! He wobbled closer, taking note of her dark, delicate features and her pale, ivory skin. She played meticulously, absorbed in what she was doing, and never once looking up from the keys of the piano. Her ebony hair was long and silky, and damn she had a nice body! She was young, but not too young - he figured her to be in her late twenties or early thirties, but what did he know? He was shit-faced, after all.

One clumsy step after another, Beetlejuice got close enough to seat himself at the table next to her. He watched her closely, mesmerized by her intense hotness. He watched as her slender, graceful fingers moved over the dirt-laced keys, producing such beautiful sounds. He began to relax under her spell, forgetting his own problems for a bit. At that moment, he no longer ruminated over broken deals, over time served for his transgressions, or over how to find another willing victim to let him out. Just for that moment, he felt content.

Then the music stopped, pulling Beetlejuice out of his drunken trance and back into the present. The young woman looked up for the first time since she began playing, her dark, endless eyes meeting with his own. Suddenly, they grew wide, and through his inebriated haze, he began to sense some familiarity in her features.

"H...hey...doll..." he attempted to call her over, his eyes and body feeling heavier with each word. Why was the room spinning? He really needed to talk to the owner about this place. "How 'bout you come over...an' sit with...the B...man...?"

"B-betelgeuse...?" he heard the soft voice through the spinning storm inside his head. Wait, how did she know his name?

"W-wha..." Beetlejuice mumbled before his head hit the table with a prominent "thud".


	2. Infiltration

Mad Love

Chapter Two: Infiltration

"...What...the fuck?" Beetlejuice grumbled, rubbing his aching skull as he found himself face-down on the floor at his place. He idly watched a cockroach scurry across the carpet, angrily slamming his hand on the unfortunate creature and devouring it whole.

Spitting a particularly unsavory leg out, he stumbled to his feet, in complete awe of how he actually made it home in one piece. The last memory he had was of being in the bar way too late, when only the pathetic, depressed old dudes were in there (Wait, was he one of those ? Nah, no way!). And there was that chick - not the half-cooked bitch - the really hot one! He remembered watching her play the piano for the longest time, and she saw him, and...Why did she look so damned familiar? Maybe she'd be back there tonight?

Swiftly deciding to further investigate that matter in the night hours, he turned his attention to his ever-evolving plans to get out. He grabbed his trusty old newspaper, hoping for some fresh new stiffs to dawn the obits again. He hadn't been on the prowl in quite some time, and he had the itch. Perhaps he could offer up his services like he did last time, and maybe even strike that deal with a more willing breather while he was at it - one that wouldn't leave his ass to get devoured by a freakin' sandworm.

Hopefully the bargain would go better than it did with Poe's daughter - the lyin' little hag! If past experiences were the judge of future ones, he determined that he was royally fucked. Not that he hadn't tried again by any means necessary to be summoned. He tried picking on the weak ones, and since the kid hadn't worked out, he tried to go the opposite route.

He remembered invading the dreams of that old woman and letting his name slip into her subconscious. Of course, he didn't take into account that she was senile as hell, and spent nearly a month barking his name out in continuous bouts. One day he'd been popped into and out of earthly existence eighty-four fucking times! Eighty-four! It was a damned good thing he was already dead! He had to sneak back into her dreams and replace it with another word, and then Nana's grandchildren wondered why in the hell she screamed the word _dildo_ consecutively for hours. Oh, the look on the parent's faces when they had to explain (or perhaps figure out) why granny decidedly chose that particular word. Ah, the living - so easy to manipulate!

Of course, however humorous that was, it didn't get him any closer to being hitched to a breather. Granny couldn't keep her trap shut long enough for him to coax her into the deed.

Then there was that weird-ass fortune teller chick. He thought she'd be crazy enough to succumb to the idea, but she couldn't get it out of her head that he was the spirit of none other than the King of Rock n Roll, reaching out to her from the great beyond. Crazy broad, that one - had that wierd obsession with Elvis - with the snow globes and the collector's plates and shit. That didn't pan out in the least.

There were other attempts, all equal amounts pitiful and painful, and yet the little goth chick had come the closest to sealing the deal with him. Just a few more seconds - _mere seconds_ \- and he could've been free! He cringed internally, gripping the newspaper tightly in his fists, still feeling the sting of over a decade ago. She was damned lucky ole' Babs intervened, and thus was the center of most of his rage. Adam, too - that pussy whipped dweeb! Of course, though most of his animosity was geared toward the two unfortunate Maitlands, he still had plenty left over for little what's her face.

Lydia was the name, he recalled briefly. Recently, he tried finding her and paying her a little visit. He'd searched everywhere he figured her type would dwell - weird underground nightclubs, seances, cemetaries, _the morgue_. Much to his distaste, he had yet to find the little twit. Even more to his distaste, he had yet to scare the living shit out of her.

Truly, though, he had not the slightest clue where the girl, or likely woman (she was grown by now, right?) had taken off to. Outside of her former home in Winter Rivers, he really didn't know where to look. Not that he cared or anything, he was simply curious to what happened to that chick that still _technically_ owed him one. And if said chick was to be found, then she really would owe him. And, of course, she'd have to pay up.

"Well, well, well..." Beetlejuice snickered, his thoughts brought back to the present by a shiny new obituary. The man was middle aged and portly, complete with glasses and a plaid shirt. Perfect. Another dweeb. Pathetic! Probably completely out of touch with any haunting capabilities he possessed. "Gerald Lunder..." he chuckled, scheming to himself. "Well, well, ole' Jerry...You've been dead a good week or two...Maybe you have some _unwanted_ visitors by now, eh? And _you_ sure as hell ain't scarin' 'em out, are ya?"

Beetlejuice slung the old newspaper carelessly to the side, greedily rubbing his grimy hands together at the thought of another chance to have a little fun. A lit cigarette formed in the air over his head, as he snatched it up, taking a long, satisfying drag. He slowly let the smoke leave his lips, forming a skull in the air, while he took a shot of whiskey. "Yeah, that's it...Gotta get warmed up..." Of course, he wouldn't meet one-on-one with the nerd until he planted those blessed seeds of desperation first.

* * *

Gerald Lunder wiped beads of cold sweat from his forehead, attempting to read the Handbook for the Recently Deceased. His old apartment, which had once been a quiet, peaceful retreat for his frequently frayed nerves, was now nothing short of a madhouse. In record time, Gerald had died from a heart attack, his belongings vacated and his former appartment cleaned, with the new arrival of the present company.

Two college-aged girls had moved into this modest appartment (most likely the rent was cheaper now since he'd kicked the bucket in there, he figured) and had completely been trashing the place. Gerald's once peaceful, quiet nights reading mystery novels were rudely interrupted by a steady flow of drunken parties, boys, and general debauchery that Gerald held no liking for in the least.

The only room that remained untouched was his small study - the room he'd died in. Fortunately, the two girls were too wary to set foot around that place, and for that Gerald was immensely grateful.

"Goodness, not again..." Gerald grumbled, sighing as the loud ringing of music and laughter began pulsing through the walls. "This thing is hard enough to understand as it is..."

Feeling defeated, Gerald laid the handbook down on his desk, deciding to go for a more entertaining read. He picked one of his many murder mysteries off of the desk, and firmly stuck his nose in the book, focusing very hard as to distract himself from the girlish squeals and unwelcome music. However, the power of drunken tomfoolery prevailed, sending him to throw his book on the desk in frustration.

"Ugh...Fine!" Gerald turned to a small, antique radio on his bookshelf, turning it on in hopes to drown some of the noise out with something more to his taste. Classical music filled the room, somehow overpowering the loud, obnoxious flow of sound from the other rooms. Funny, he thought, since when did that little old radio turn up so loud? He certainly never remembered it having such volume when he was alive. Perhaps it was an afterlife thing, he mused.

Gerald promptly composed himself, sitting on his comfortable chair and closing his eyes, allowing the soft embrace of the beautiful orchestra to relax him. That was, until the music began to distort and scramble, with a strange static buzzing through the old speakers.

"Hmmm..." Gerald quirked an eyebrow, attempting to tune the radio to a different station in hopes of fixing the nuisance. However, every station was the same, dead buzzing noise. "Ugh...I give up..." he finally admitted, rubbing his forehead in defeat.

Suddenly, the tuner began to move by itself, catching Gerald's eye. He startled, growing tense as his eyes grew wide. What was this? It finally stopped on a station, as booming big band music began to play from the speakers. Trumpets blared and drums beat swiftly, as Gerald heard someone clear their throat. Actually, it became more of a wheezing, hacking cough. Kind of unprofessional, he mused.

"Heya...This thing on?!" a strange, gravelly voice muttered from the speakers. "Er...Eh-HEM!"

Gerald listened, his eyes the size of saucers as the voice began, now turning from the rough, deep growl to a more soothing, refined sound.

"Have you recently experienced an untimely death? Terminal illness? Homicide?" the voice began, as Gerald, in awe, slowly nodded in hearing the words.

"Have you been living in sweet, solitary confines of your afterlife, only to be encroached upon by the living? Are you missing your peace and quiet?" the cultured voice calmly continued.

"W-what is this? How is this happening?" Gerald's brow furrowed, taking a step back from the radio.

"Whaddya mean how is this happenin' ole' Jerry?!" the voice suddenly became harsh and manic once more. "HAHAHA! You, my friend, are dead as a door nail! Know what I mean, Jer-"

"Wh-who are you? And my name is not Jerry, it's Gerald." he interrupted the ghostly voice, completely uneasy by the events taking place.

"Sure it is, Jerry! As far as me, well I'm glad you asked! I'm the ghost with the most! Introducing the afterlife's number one bio-exorcist! My services offer possessions, conjurations, incantations, apparitions, and out of body experiences! Licensed and recognized in the plane of the living, Limbo, Purgatory, and every single level of Hell! You want those horny, drunken chicks outta here? Well, I'll take 'em off yer hands, Jer! Hell, I'll take 'em any way I can get 'em, if ya know whaddimean! Heh, but all jokes aside, Jerry, I can scare the livin' hell out of 'em! You'll be back to the dweeby life of yer dreams, my boy! The only woman you'll have to look at is the kind you jerk off to in naughty books, son!" the manic, possibly homicidally insane voice bellowed out. Gerald could only gape in a mixture of disbelief and horror.

"Of course..." the voice began to calm down, as if holding back. "The ghost with the most understands that his customers need to have some space, relax, chill, take their time on makin' any decisions. Of course, I'll be here anytime! Day or night! Rain or shine! Just say the name three times, folks! That's the only way it works! Just remember Orion's right shoulder, second brightest star, and your cares will be scared away!"

Suddenly, the voice and the music came to a screeching halt as the radio clicked off. Gerald was alone, with nothing but the grating noise to keep him company. He licked his dry lips, seating himself while he wiped at the sweat beading on his brow once more. Anxiety licked at his insides - it did seem like a good idea to rid the house of those pesky intruders. But then again, whoever belonged to that crazy voice had to be just as loony as they sounded.

A small picture fell off the wall of the study, as a crash from another room jolted the wall. Gritting his teeth, Gerald browsed his collection of books, tracing his fingers on the spines until he found the one he wanted to take a look at. He opened the beginner's astronomy book, flipping through the pages until he stopped at the constellation Orion. He didn't feel quite brave enough to summon the madman on the other end of the radio, but Gerald didn't see the harm in learning his name.


	3. Who?

Chapter Three: Who?

"Heh heh heh..." Beetlejuice chuckled deviously, downing another shot of whiskey. "Another visit or two...plant a few more seeds of desperation...and BOOM!" he yelled, slapping his filthy table. "Ole' Jerry will call on the B-Man, and I'll be back in no time!"

Beetlejuice grinned devilishly to himself, pleased with his endeavor. He'd rewarded himself by drinking copious amounts of liquor to amuse himself further. Of course, the night was calling and something had been irking him by about the fiftieth shot. He was forgetting something.

"Hmmm...Now what was it? Somethin' I was gunna' do..." Beetlejuice scratched his mangy head, pulling out a cockroach from his hair for a snack. Now, there were only a handful of things important to him, and those mainly consisted of booze, broads, and getting out. He paused, chewing the unfortunate insect in a drunken stupor, until it had dawned on him. He wanted to find out who that super hot chick was! "Oh yeah...That was it..."

He pushed himself up to his feet, stumbling on wobbly legs to make it out the front door of his delapidated roadhouse. Probably wasn't a good idea to get drunk before stepping foot in the bar, he reasoned a little too late.

* * *

A strange, purple fog hung low in the night air, as Beetlejuice wobbled up to a shabby old building. "The Red Rum" glowed brightly atop the delapidated old structure in crimson colored neon lights, with a few of them blinking dimly.

"Haha! There you are, sugar! Miss me?" Beetlejuice grinned deviously at the welcoming bar, steadying himself as he flicked his cigarette onto the busted pavement.

He walked (or rather stumbled) up to the door, his grin growing wider as he noticed a couple of ladies of the night eyeing him.

"Well hello there, Mr. B!" a prostitute with too much makeup and a pole through her head greeted him suggestively, smacking some chewing gum between her teeth.

"You wanna have some fun, Mr. B?" cooed another, placing her only arm around his neck.

"Well, well, well, girls..." Beetlejuice grinned, snaking an arm around each woman's waist lecherously. "Well, you see, I'm on a bit of a mission, if you will..." he began, noting their eyebrows raising in interest. "See, I'm lookin' for this chick...Well, I _was_ lookin' for this chick, until you offered your services, which I will not refuse! So uh...which one wants to go first, eh? Or do you both wanna have a go at the same time, cuz...uh...I can arrange that..." he snickered, showing his grimy, devious grin. He purposely let his hands wander down a little lower, until he received a prompt slap across the face from the one-armed broad.

"What the fuck was that for?!" Beetlejuice huffed, rubbing the side of his moldy face.

"Ah, ah, ah, Mr. B! You pay first!" the pole-headed dame scolded, placing her hands on her hips.

"Er...uh...How 'bout a rain check, ladies?" Beetle wiggled his eyebrows, noting the sour looks forming on their faces. "Or maybe cut the ole' B-man a deal, eh? You know, like maybe a freebie for preferred customers? Whaddya say, toots?"

"No money, no fun." the one-armed chick spat, turning her back to him.

"Oh yeah? No fun, eh? I don't seem to remember you havin' any complaints last time you took a ride, toots!" Beetlejuice fumed.

"You had money that time." the other hooker stated plainly, now walking away.

"Fine! I don't need you anyways! I have not one, but _two_ hands to jack off with! Completely free of cost!" Beetlejuice yelled, causing the one-armed woman to glare at him over her shoulder. He grinned back deviously, before pushing the front door open and making his presence known.

* * *

Upon entering The Red Rum, a collective sigh seemed to fill the air. Probably all the womenfolk swoonin' over him, he figured. Beetlejuice found a table with four chairs, and three of those chairs filled with females. Nice broads, too! No foreign objects protruding from any weird places!

"Well, hello! What do we have here? I think I'll just make myself comfortable..." Beetlejuice casually stepped over to the lovely dames, seating himself. Of course, as soon as his ass hit the seat, they fled.

"Fine, then, ya losers!" Beetle yelled, propping his muddy boots on the table. "Bitches..." he muttered to himself, just before a wrinkly old waitress scooted up to his table. Beetlejuice snickered, eyeing the old hag. "What'd you die of, old age?"

The old woman paused a brief moment, clearly not amused. "Yes." she replied, matter-of-factly. "Now, what do you want, asshole?"

Beetle's grin slowly turned downward. "Eh...The usual..." he muttered, crossing his arms. The old woman slowly (like, really, really freakin' slowly) scooted away, before returning with a gigantic bottle of whiskey with a skull and crossbones on the front of it. "Just...uh...put it on mah tab..." Beetlejuice grinned faintly, popping the cork.

"Yeah, they told me you'd say that..." the old woman rolled her eyes before hobbling out of sight.

At least that mystery chick didn't run from him, he reasoned. And she really was smokin' hot, too! Better than any of the deadbeats he'd been messin' around with. He snapped his fingers, as a shotglass appeared in the air. He poured his drink of choice and set back, hoping to see her again.

* * *

"Play it again, Joe!" Beetlejuice drawled, glaring at the only other person unfortunate enough to be left in the bar with him.

"For the hundredth time, my name's not Joe, it's Gregory!" the man fumed, rubbing his head just outside of where the axe had penetrated his skull, before standing and leaving the old piano.

"Yeah...yeah...yeah..." Beetle grumbled, wiping a hand over his face. He then looked about the place, noting the empty seats in the dim red lighting. He was alone. Beetlejuice shrugged, taking another shot. Who cared if he was alone? He sure as hell didn't.

He sighed, grabbing the huge bottle to take another swig, only to realize that he'd downed the entire thing. No wonder the room was spinning. "Fuck it..." he muttered, laying his head down in defeat, realizing he needed to just give up and go home (or pass out on the table, which ever came first).

Suddenly, the piano started up again, not with old bar tunes and ragtime music, but with beautiful, somber music. That music! Was it...?

Beetle raised up, trying desperately to focus his blurred vision on the woman that played such elegant music. Definitely not his style, but she was a sight for sore eyes, and the last time he'd seen her, she didn't run away like her head was on fire. And, wait a minute, didn't she say his name? Did she know him or something?

Beetlejuice, overcome with drunken curiosity, slowly stood up from his seat. He took a couple of misguided steps, before realizing that walking wouldn't work very well. He simply made himself reappear sitting at the table in front of the old, cobweb-ridden piano.

He squinted, watching her through his drunken haze. Damn, she looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. Oh, well, he figured, best just to cut to the chase.

"Hey, uh...dollface..." he spoke, trying his best to get her attention. She simply continued playing, her eyes locked intensely on the dirty old piano keys. Her deep brown eyes almost seemed in a hypnotic gaze of some sort. "Uh...You do that much? Ya know...that thousand-yard stare shit?" he quipped again, a dopey grin forming on his face.

Still, the young woman paid no heed to his attempts at conversating. Well that simply wouldn't do, Beetle decided. Against the will of his wobbly, inebriated legs, he stumbled on over, now standing beside the woman. He grinned wickedly, looming over her until his head was nearly sitting on her shoulder. He inhaled, smelling the sweet scent of perfume in her hair and on her skin.

Suddenly, as if sensing his presence, the young woman froze in place, tensing. The lovely music abruptly stopped, as she hunkered down, still staring ahead.

"Uh...You busy?" Beetlejuice felt himself grin even broader, his raspy voice causing the girl to whip around to meet eyes with him. She let out of small yelp, before standing up and backing away a step or two (though Beetle noted that she didn't bolt like she had a tub of scalding water poured on her, so that had to be a plus).

"I-it's you again..." the young woman spoke quietly, eyes wide.

"The ghost with the most, babe. That's me..." Beetlejuice slurred, feeling himself begin to lose his balance (shit, not again!). He nearly fell over, but was steadied by a couple of delicate hands, that just so happened to grab his arm at just the right moment. Beetlejuice's eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised that the woman would think to help him at all. Well, that was certainly different.

"Are you alright? You need some help?" the mystery chick asked, trying to hold him steady.

"Uh..." Beetlejuice stammered, dumbfounded. "Yeah, hold on..." he muttered, disappearing from her grip and reappearing seated at a nearby table. "That's better...Heya, lemme buy us a drink, whaddya say?"

The girl's brow furrowed. "I don't know, you look pretty wasted as it is..."

"Ah, c'mon! At least have a seat with me! Whaddya say? Let's get...aquainted. Tell the ole' B-man yer troubles..." he slurred, holding up two fingers. The old waitress hobbled back over, sighing as she placed two shots of whiskey on the table.

The woman seated herself, a faint smirk forming on her features. She studied him a moment before speaking. "You don't remember me, do you...?" she asked hesitantly.

"Uh...Am I s'posed...to?" Beetlejuice mumbled, feeling his eyes grow heavy. He shook his head to wake himself, before downing his final shot.

"Well, I figured you would, considering..." and that's the last thing he heard fall from her lips, as his head inevitably hit the table.


	4. You Again?

Chapter Four: You Again?

A dull, throbbing sensation in his head caused Beetlejuice to reluctantly open his eyes, groaning. He rubbed his aching forehead, squinting to eye his surroundings and figure out just where the fuck he'd ended up. Strangely enough, he was sprawled out on his moldy brown couch among a dozen beer bottles.

He slowly sat up, wincing from the hazy orange daylight that filtered through his dusty old windows. "How the fuck did I end up here...?" he grumbled, feeling queasy. If he'd been a living man, he would have barfed right there on the spot. However, since he was dead, he simply suffered from the afterlife's worst hangover, minus the puking.

Coffee. For the love of all that was holy, he needed a cup of joe, and he needed it pronto. He held out his hand, as a large mug appeared in it. He greedily slurped down the coffee, racking his brain to remember just what the hell happened last night.

"Now let's see...Bar, hookers, drunk...No, wait...Drunk..then hookers, then bar, then..." he mumbled, trying to recollect the series of events.

The sound of soft footsteps caused Beetlejuice to stop, mid-thought. He slowly tilted his head toward the sound, noting that it was coming from the back room - his bedroom. He grinned to himself, realizing that he must have gotten lucky the night before. With who, he had not the slightest idea, but he wasn't picky.

Suddenly, a pale, slim figure in a long, black gown appeared in the doorway. Beetlejuice nearly felt his eyes bug out of their sockets. Of all the stiffs out there, he got lucky with her - that super hot chick?

The woman stood with her arms folded, hesitating before speaking to him. "You okay? You were really drunk last night..." she spoke, her brow furrowed with uncertainty.

Beetlejuice grinned like a rabid wolf. "I am now, sweetcheeks..."

"Look...um...I think we need to talk..." the woman spoke, her voice uneasy.

Damn, one of those talks already? Just how serious was this? "Uh...sure...Just come on over here and tell ole' BJ what's on yer mind..." he grinned, patting the seat next to him.

The woman paused a moment, before slowly walking over and seating herself beside him. Her big doe eyes looked worried, confusing him. Damn she was a looker! Too bad he didn't remember all the wild sex they'd probably had.

"Do you remember last night?" she asked, her brows lifting in curiosity.

Hell no. "Sure I do! Best night of mah life!" he belted out, painting a big, dopey grin on his face.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, "And you're not mad?"

"Hell, why would I be?" he shrugged, grinning like there was no tomorrow. _Uh, should he be mad right now?_

"Hmmm..." she shot him a scrutinizing look, as if she knew something that he didn't, and Beetlejuice didn't like that one damned bit. Now he really was curious. Who the hell was this chick?

"Uh...Want somethin' to eat?" Beetlejuice asked dumbly, with a lack of anything else to say.

The girl shrugged, nodding. "Sure, I could use some food."

"Okay...Whaddya like?" Beetle asked, wobbling into to his kitchen.

"Anything...I'm not picky..." she replied, following him.

Beetle grinned devilishly, as a plate full of dead insects plopped out of the air and onto the table. "Get it while it's hot!" he exclaimed.

"Okay, okay...Not, _anything..."_ the girl grimaced, looking away. "Good to see you haven't changed..." she smirked, her words laced with a familiar sarcasm.

"I...haven't, eh?" Beetle narrowed his eyes, before turning the plate of detestable bugs into a more appetizing choice of eggs and bacon.

"Nope, you haven't." she grinned, seating herself. "Heh...Thanks."

"Ah, it ain't nothin'," he shrugged, seating himself across from her. Polite, too - that was a rarity among the women he'd come across. It made him feel...weird. Really, really weird. And this chick definitely knew him, while he had not the faintest idea who she was. Oh well, time to pick her brain. "So uh...What's a girl like you doin' in a bar that late?"

The young woman, who vigorously chewed a mouth full of eggs, swallowed. "Well...I'm kind of alone right now."

Beetle shot her a look of disbelief. "You? Now why would a smokin' hot chick like you be alone? Aren't men throwin' themselves at ya?"

She averted her eyes from his scrutinizing gaze, gingerly poking at her eggs with a fork. "No. That's definitely not happening. I...kinda had no place to go, and that place was peaceful at night, when it cleared out."

Beetlejuice studied her a moment. "So, yer like...homeless er somethin'?"

"Yeah, I was." she smiled.

Wait, _was_? Oh, shit.

"Uh..." Beetlejuice stared at her, dumbfounded. "So...?"

"So, I wanted to thank you...You know, for taking me in." she smiled sweetly, almost too sweetly. Was she up to something?

His face fell slack. "I did?"

"Yeah."

"So, uh...Why were ya homeless, again?" he asked, baffled and slightly fearful, though he wouldn't admit it. Something was definitely off. Beetlejuice was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. There was no way that a woman that looked like that, and acted like that, was actually living with him without a catch. There had to be a catch!

"I had no place to stay because I had some...penalties against me when I came to the afterlife..." she stated, her pleasant expression straightening.

"Heh, yeah, that's the afterlife for ya. They take into account all that pointless shit from your previous life and tack on a bunch of rules and punishments. It sucks like hell. Believe me, I know. That's how I got the whole name three times bullshit." he muttered, cringing. "So, uh...What'd ya do?"

"I..." she stared into his eyes, a somber look falling on her features. "I sort of...breached a contract...I gave my word, but I didn't exactly...follow through..."

Beetlejuice's face contorted in a bout of confusion. "That's all? Shit, breathers do that all the time. I don't see how that's a big deal. The only way you get penalized that harshly over a broken deal is if...if..." he stopped, his eyes narrowing in on the woman. Wait. One. Minute. That face...He _knew_ that sulky little face! "It's between the living and the dead..." he continued, his voice turning into a low hiss.

"Do you remember me now?" the woman asked, her eyes staring down at her plate nervously, averting from his piercing glare.

"Well, if it isn't Lydia-Fuckin'-Deetz! Little Miss Poe herself..." he growled through a feral smile, standing and leaning toward her, both hands now on the table. "Finally dropped dead, did you? What'd you do, decide you really wanted in this time?"

"No, it's not like that." she stated quietly, placing her fork down and backing away from the table.

"So that's why I couldn't find your scrawny little ass..." he hissed, lurking toward her.

"Well, it's not like I did it on purpose! Look, I-I need to talk to you. I was hoping you'd come back to the bar after I saw you the first time..." she stuttered, backing away from the malicious ghost.

"Oh, really? Why, Deetz? Did you wanna rub it in my face? Well, whoopty-fuckin'-do! You don't have to marry me, after all! Won't do me any damned good to get hitched to a dead broad, eh? A stiff can't get me out, and I FUCKIN' WANT OUT!" he yelled, causing the lights to dim.

The girl's lip trembled. "No...That's not why I was there...I just wanted to..."

"To...what?" Beetlejuice leered in her face, while a few of the bulbs in his house shattered. Beetlejuice felt his blood boil, as the sound of hissing and scurrying filled his home, causing Lydia to shriek. Hundreds of snakes and insects crawled around them, as Beetle sneered, feeling only rage and resentment.

Lydia whispered something, the sound just missing Beetle's comprehension. "Sorry dollface, you'll have to speak a little louder. I can't hear ya for all these fuckin' snakes and shit..." he cackled, as she grimaced, terrified of her surroundings.

She whimpered, fighting back tears. "TO SAY I'M SORRY!" she screamed, her emotions crumbling before his eyes.

Suddenly, the room fell quiet and everything was gone in an instant. Beetlejuice simply stared, bewildered. "Uh...wut?"

Lydia was now sobbing at this point, further confusing the poltergiest. "I wanted to say I was sorry for breaking the deal...I-I need to leave..." she gasped, running out of his view, as the front door slammed forcefully behind her.


	5. Brooding

Chapter Five: Brooding

It had been days since she'd run out the door, and Beetlejuice still found himself still on the couch, ruminating over the woman who'd inevitably doomed him to be confined to the Neitherworld for all of eternity. Sure, there were chances of finding another breather to torment into marriage, but he was well aware that the outlook was bleak.

In truth, he'd never really let the idea of marrying her go. Lydia had been the only one to say yes, even if the circumstances were less than desirable. He'd never even gotten close to sealing the deal with anyone else. Hell, he'd even went searching for her, in some sick hope that he'd run into her and get her to pay up. And now that she was dead, well, he was practically fucked.

Of course, what baffled him the most, was her intention to apologize to him. Just why did she want to do that? Did she want something from him? He racked his brain, but to no avail. Truthfully, the poltergeist didn't know how to take her apology. He'd never had a single one of those since he'd died, and maybe before, if he was really keeping count.

He had to admit, that even though thick resentment flowed through his undead being like electricity, much of his rage had quieted while being away from her. Had he really invited Deetz to live with him? It was a possibility, given the fact that she was hot as hell - and he was trashed. It would be nice to look at that all day long. And it would sure help those horrible bouts of loneliness and self loathing, which he certainly did not have, because he was definitely _not_ having those stupid thoughts at all. Nope. No-siree!

"I need to take a whiz..." he blurted out, excusing himself from his own angsty inner workings.

One steaming hot piss later, and he was right back where he started - thinking of Lydia Deetz. What exactly was he gonna do about it? Was he gonna just forget about her now? She wasn't any help to him now, being dead and all. Was he just gonna let her wander around with no place to go? And since when did he start caring about anything anyone else was doing?

Beetlejuice groaned, scratching his head as he stood up to pace about like a rabid panther. With his chances of marriage now greatly reduced, he'd have to put a hell of a lot of effort into getting close to those broads ole' Jerrycurl was living with. He'd really have to make sure there were no chances for one of them to back out, or escape, or send a fuckin' sandworm after him.

Feeling rather anxious and a bit stir-crazy, he decided that now was the perfect time to pick up where he left off. It was time to pay good ole' Jerry a visit.

* * *

Gerald sighed, relieved to find the two young party girls gone for the night. Now at least he could have a few hours of peace and quiet. The only time he truly had the luxury of silence was when they were sleeping or out for some reason or another. With a content smile on his face, Gerald wiped the beading sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief before coming out of his study to enjoy his empty apartment.

He meandered though each room, stepping over the occasional bra or empty beer in the floor, and grimacing each time he had to do so. He wandered over to the small kitchen, opening his fridge out of curiosity, only to find some ancient containers of take out food and a six pack of beer. He shook his head, slowly closing the refrigerator door. No surprise there, he thought.

Gerald made his rounds through his once clean and tidy appartment, feeling apalled at just how wretched and filthy it had become. _At least_ , he thought, _they won't_ _go near my study_. However, he did miss the freedom of his once quiet retreat, and found his mind wondering the possibilities of calling on the voice on the other side of the radio. He himself didn't know the first thing about really scaring someone. In his previous life he was the one who got scared, not the other way around.

Gerald stopped his self-guided tour as he eyed a strange, glowing, tattered newspaper laying on a nearby coffee table.

"What on earth..." he mumbled under his breath, hesitantly picking up the ancient paper.

Brow furrowed, he took note of the unusual layout - nearly every page was covered in obituaries. He flipped through each page in bewilderment, until he came to an obituary that had been circled in red. It was his.

"Gerald Lunder, born May 1, 1953, passed away November 2, 1998. Gerald was preceded in death by his parents, George and Tammy Lunder. Among his remaining loved ones are his brother, Carl Lunder, and sister, Geraldine Sullivan. "

Sighing, Gerald continued reading, his heart feeling a bit heavy in realizing that he hadn't spoke with his living siblings in months.

"His funeral will be held Friday, November 5 at 3:00 pm at... _Hey Jerry ole' buddy you still readin'?_ "

Suddenly startled by the strange writing, Gerald dropped the paper, scattering the old pages across the floor. Was it that voice again? He paused a moment, wiping his sweat-laden brow before apprehensively searching through the paper to find his obituary once more. He had a strange feeling that it may be a bad idea to read further, but curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Finding the desired page, his eyes picked up where they'd left off, only to find his obituary a bit...different.

 _Gerald Lunder: Newly-appointed stiff. Dead. Deceased. Dead, dead, deadski! Found stiff as my dick in a room full of fifty cent hookers! Enough about me, though (Ahhh, Gran-gran, you always throw the best birthday parties!). It happened, and all because his ticker decided it was made for a human instead of a baby balooga. What about it, Jerr? That what happened? Am I close? Yer damn right I am! *TURN PAGE TO SEE MORE*_

Feeling irritated, Gerald nearly threw the crumpled old paper to the floor. Who was this maniac to insult him? Gerald was already dead, and constantly plagued by loneliness and the complete tyranny of two relentless college girls! Was it really necessary to give him any more grief? Just what did this madman want? Really? What _did_ he want? Gerald sighed, giving in as he turned the page. He looked on, as the next page showed an illustration of a blinking sign, reading "Betelgeuse! Betelgeuse! Betelgeuse!". A wary look fell over his features as he noticed that the bulbs illuminating the sign were actually blinking. Gerald's eyes lowered, continuing onward.

 _Betelgeuse, Neitherworld-reknown entreprenuer, connoisseur, and expert bio-exercist (also minoring in Women's Studies *wink, wink*), would like you to fill out the following survey:_

Gerald rolled his eyes before reading on, wondering what a survey of any kind would possibly accomplish. He then grabbed a ball point pen from his front shirt pocket before seating himself on the couch. May as well be comfortable, he figured. Gerald skimmed over the first question, baffled by the strangeness of it all.

"Are you dead? What kind of a question is that...?" he grumbled, impatiently checking the box titled "yes". He then, with even less patience moved on to the next question.

 _Are you miserable in your current after-living situation?_

Gerald sighed, nodding in agreement as he checked "yes" again.

 _Are you fat, incapable, pathetic, weak, or any other adjective that would currently describe you?_

Gerald gripped his pen, feeling agitated by the blatant insults, before sighing defeatedly, somehow feeling that at least, in part, some of those things were true. Boy, did this "Betelgeuse" character know how to set off his self-loathing. Another hesitant check in the "yes" area, and Gerald continued on.

 _You ever get laid, Jerr?_

"What?!" Gerald huffed, exasperated by all the insults.

 _It's just the whole book-nerdy, glasses, you know, the whole fat Bill Gates thing. Never mind. Uh, would you like your breathers to vacate the area as soon as possible, never to return?_

Gerald wiped his brow, now fuming on the inside. He quickly swiped a check over the next "yes" box.

 _Now we're talkin'! If you said "yes" to any or all of the above questions, please request the ole' B-man as soon as possible! You remember the drill. Just say the name three times! Will you agree to act upon the terms and conditions stated above?_

Gerald, now highly irritated and indecisive, sat fiddling with his pen while wiping the back of his hand over his soaked forehead. Sure, he could request this beligerent fellow's services, but why? Sure he was tired of those two girls, but if this lunatic was half as crazy as he sounded, he could unleash a hell far worse than those two could ever deal out. Besides, why did he want to summon someone who constantly berated him? Gerald huffed, promptly swiping a check over the "no" box. He then defiantly tossed the old paper to the floor before marching off.

* * *

"The nerve ah' that guy..." Beetlejuice muttered angrily, taking a final drag off of his cigarette before flicking it off into a dark alleyway. It was the dead of night, and all he could do was wander about, mad as hell. He was too pissed to drink, and far too pissed to create havoc. Hell, he was even too pissed to bar hop, and that was sayin' something!

He paced along the busted sidewalk, passing various dark, faceless, nameless figures in the night. A couple of corpse-colored, scantily-clad women walked by him, grinning. "Hey there, stud. Wanna ride?" one purred, flashing a wicked grin.

"Not now." Beetle growled, too irritated to even think of screwin' some broad.

The two women scowled. "Go fuck yourself!" one of the women yelled, venom in her voice.

Beetle's face twisted in anger, while he gestured a jerking-off motion in mid-air. "That can be arranged, dollface!" he spat. "Won't be the first time..."

He glared at the ground, pulling another lit cigarette from his pocket and bringing it up to his lips. All he could think of was how unattainable getting out seemed to be. With Gerald Lunder's refusal to call on him, he knew he had not a snowball's chance in hell of getting close to one of those chicks. And without a breather to hitch himself to, he was completely and utterly trapped.

Completely lost in his bitter thoughts, Beetlejuice remained completely unaware of the fact that a small, dark stranger was walking in the darkness ahead of him. Even the pale blue glow of the streetlights didn't alert him to the figure as it passed beneath them.

"Shoulda' known that wimpy heart-attack victim wouldn't go for it..." he muttered, smoke trailing from his lips. Suddenly, his eyes still on the ground and his head still devoured by his racing thoughts, he crashed into an unknown object. "UGH!" he stumbled, dropping his cigarette on the sidewalk as the smaller figure fell face-first to the ground. "Hey! Whydon'tcha watch where yer goin'?!" he growled, grabbing his much-desired smoke off the pavement.

"...Betelgeuse?" a startled, feminine voice gasped. The woman scrambled up to her feet, turning to lock eyes with an equally-startled poltergeist.

"Hey, easy with the name...Deetz? What the hell are you doin' wanderin' around out here? Don't you have somewhere to be? Like livin' in a sewer or a big box or somethin?" he smirked deviously at her, his annoying behavior partially fueled by his bad mood.

He glared at her, waiting for her to either argue or slap him silly in response. However, to his surprise, she didn't. She simply sighed, brushing herself off. "Yeah, yeah, I know...I broke my promise and ruined your afterlife. I get it." she muttered, turning to vanish back into the night.

"Wait, what?!" he grunted, baffled by her lack of fight. Well, she was a buzz kill.

She paused, before turning back to face him. Her features shown signs of exhaustion. "Look, I've already apologized to you. I don't know what else you want from me."

What was with all this apology shit? Was this some kind of trick or something? Beetle raised a wary eyebrow. "What're you doin' out here, anyway?"

"I'm uh..." she averted her eyes, now fiddling with her dress. "I'm looking for someone..."

Both his brows raised. "Oh, really? You mean, you're not, uh, you know..." he smirked, rubbing his fingers and thumb together.

Lydia glared. "I'm not a hooker, if that's what your asking..."

"Who said I was asking?" Beetle grinned, further annoying her. "Who are you lookin' for, anyway?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "It's a long story."

"Alright then, let me hear it. Might explain why you've gotten all weepy and sentimental and crap." he provoked, hoping to hear some sort of explanation for Lydia's apologetic behavior.

"Let's just say I know what it's like to be in your shoes now..." she stated, looking him square in the eyes, before turning and walking away.

Beetle's eye's narrowed in on the young woman, who's slim figure was quickly leaving him. What was with all this cryptic shit?! He didn't know anymore than he did two minutes ago! Did it even matter at this point? Feeling strangely anxious, Beetlejuice took an extra-long drag off his cigarette. Where was she going anyway? Would he ever see her again? Of course he could, he was the ghost with the most - he could find anybody in the afterlife! But what good would it do him? And, why was he bothering? Why did he suddenly have the urge to keep Lydia Deetz - lier, cheater, and deal-breaker - around? Well, it certainly wasn't that "I'm sorry" bullshit (Was it? Nah, couldn't be.). It had to be something else...

Beetlejuice suddenly smirked, "Hmmm..." That was it! She still owed him! Maybe he could use that to his advantage. Perhaps the Jerrymeister could use a woman's touch to convince him to call on the B-man...

* * *

"Ack!" Lydia yelped, jumping back.

"Hey, sugar." Beetle grinned, as she nearly walked into his appearing form.

"What do you want?" Lydia sighed, exasperated. Normally, this would only fuel Beetle's tendency to provoke. However, he simply stared, speechless, as Lydia merely folded her arms, averting her eyes from him. Something in her voice sounded defeated and full of sorrow. What in the hell happened to her?

"Uh...Wait a minute." he said dumbly, biding his time.

"What?" she huffed, her brown eyes glittering and somber under the pale glow of the streetlights.

"Not so fast. You still owe me, Deetz." he stated, quickly steering the conversation in line with his motives.

Lydia's brow furrowed, her confusion evident. "Yeah, but you said it yourself - it won't do any good to marry me now."

"While that may be true..." he hissed, grinning devilishly while snaking an arm around her shoulders and provoking a shudder from her. "That doesn't stop you from _helping_ me get hitched."

Much to his surprise, Lydia merely stared at him. "So...That's it? You want my help?" she asked, raising a brow.

"Mm-hmm!" he nodded, a toothy grin forming on his grimy mouth.

"Well, a deal's a deal." Lydia shrugged. She then gave him a leary glance. "Does that mean I'm staying with you again?"

"Uh-huh," Beetlejuice snickered.

"Okay. My search isn't going that well anyway. So, when do you want to head-"

Suddenly, the streetlights dimmed as Beetlejuice squeezed her tightly, interrupting her mid-sentence. In a flash, the two of them appeared back on his decrepit old sofa.

"...home?" Lydia mumbled, scanning about to find herself back in his old roadhouse.

Piece of cake, he thought.


	6. Getting Reacquainted

Chapter 6: Getting Reacquainted

Lydia looked about herself, dumbfounded by the sudden unwarranted change in surroundings. The smell of dank, musty air instantly filled her nostrils. She stared, wide-eyed, surrounded by filthy walls and peeling paint. Busted appliances and junky furniture were scattered about, along with various magazines vulgar enough to make her want to hurl. Yep, same old Beetlejuice. Hopefully this time around, he'd be a bit more pleasant. Of course, that was doubtful, given who he was.

"Honey, we're home..." his gruff voice spoke, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. Feeling something draped across her shoulder, Lydia followed the sensation with her eyes, noting how his filthy striped sleeve was resting comfortably around her, his hand rubbing her arm suggestively.

Feeling a bit queasy, she quickly stood up, causing him to nearly fall to the floor. "Yes, I _see_ that." she spat, nervously smoothing the fabric of her gown.

She watched as a lecherous grin spread across his face. God, his teeth were so _...green_.

"What's wrong, Babe? Did the ole' B-man rock yer world a little too much last time? Heheh...Make you a little gun shy?" he spoke, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

Lydia's brow furrowed in confusion. "...What?"

Beetlejuice jumped up from the couch, suddenly dressed like a cowboy - a really dead, really disgusting cowboy. "Awww, now...C'mon darlin', don't be shy..." he drawled, pulling her into him and causing her to gasp. "I mean, it was our first rodeo an' all, but surely it weren't that traumatizin', were it?"

Lydia, for lack of anything to say to his grossly exaggerative, outlandish behavior, simply stared at him, puzzled. What in the world was he rambling on about?

Beetlejuice stepped back, a pouty look forming on his face. "Awww, don't tell me. It got too crazy, didn't it. So, what happened, toots? Did I go too fast for ya'? Or maybe too rough...Too many whips? Chains? Stuffed animals? Oh, I know...I bucked ya off, didn't I? Well, you know what they say, Lyds, if at first you don't succeed..." he chuckled pulling her back into him.

"Wait, what?!" Lydia, annoyed by his insinuations, shoved him back. God, he was stupid. "You think we had sex the night I stayed over?"

"I don't think, I know." Beetle crossed his arms, leaning close with an air of arrogance about him. "When I woke up, you were sleepin' in my bed."

"Yeah, and you were on the couch! Doesn't that seem a bit _off_ to you?" Lydia huffed, now wondering how she ever felt sorry for that lunatic in the first place. Maybe she was just as crazy he was. She did accept his invitation to stay, after all.

Lydia watched as his face scrunched up in a mixture of disappointment and a wounded ego. "Errrr...FINE! Well, if we weren't bumpin' uglies, then just what in the fuck were ya doin here?!"

Lydia grew quiet, now focusing on the various cigarette butts on Beetle's nasty carpet. She knew why she was there, and she felt more than foolish for it. She knew she could very easily lie or refuse to tell him, but was there really a point to it now? She was already dead, so things couldn't go too far downhill from there. Besides, she'd already apologized to him, and if apologizing to the likes of Beetlejuice wasn't rock-bottom, then nothing was.

"Well..." Lydia mumbled, still hesitant.

"Well...what?" Beetle growled, his irritability clearly increasing.

"I tried apologizing to you in the bar, but you were so wasted...I thought you'd passed out, but then you got up and started banging on the piano and saying Mozart was your second cousin. They threw you out, and you could barely walk so I helped you get here." she admitted, feeling utterly idiotic for telling him the truth. This was probably just more ammo for him. If there was one thing Lydia understood, it was that Beetlejuice was exceptionally clever, despite his often feigned foolishness. Anything a person revealed to him would be saved in his arsenal for later tormenting and manipulation. Of course, that wasn't nearly as concerning as the fact that she could sort of relate to him now, given her special set of circumstances. Even more unnerving was that her twisted feelings of regret were opening her up to being honest with him.

Lydia simply stared at Beetle, who seemed to pause after hearing her words, his face completely unreadable. He slowly pulled off his ratty cowboy hat, holding it over his chest. "Awww, sugar dumplin'! I didn't know ye cared!"

Lydia smirked, amused by his ability to become a complete smart ass at any given moment. "Well, not enough to have sex with you." she remarked sarcastically, not letting him fully enjoy his moment of annoying her.

Beetle grimaced briefly, tossing his cowboy hat to the side, as his signature striped suit returned. "Your loss, Babe." he commented, reaching into his suit pocket and pulling out a flask of liquor. He took a big gulp, wiping his lips on his sleeve as he walked toward his kitchen. "So, uh...What happened, Deetz? How'd you end up in these parts?" he asked, toning it down a bit.

Lydia followed quietly behind him, feeling her heart race when he asked the question. Her hand subconsciously rubbed her upper-thigh, as she fumbled about in her mind, trying to find the right words to say. "When I got here, I couldn't really remember, to be honest. It all seemed to happen so fast. One minute I was leaving a Halloween party looking for my fiance, and the next minute I was in the waiting room sitting next to a wet guy tied to a cement block." she chuckled nervously, feeling tense all over.

She watched as Beetlejuice seated himself at the kitchen table, propping his muddy boots on top of it. She winced slightly, realizing she'd previously eaten off that same table. He pulled an unlit cigarette out of thin air, placing it to his lips, as he motioned for her to sit. Beetle then flicked his thumb in a motion much like striking a butane lighter. A flame shot out from his hand as he brought it to the cigarette, inhaling and making a big spectacle of simply lighting a smoke.

Lydia seated herself, as Beetlejuice pushed his flask over to her. "Drink?"

"Uh...No thanks..." she answered, trying not to look too disgusted.

"Suit yourself," Beetle shrugged, grabbing it and indulging himself once more. "So, what happened?"

"Well, I was in there for a long time. I'm thinking months. Then I was called in to see my caseworker. She thoroughly chewed me out. She told me I should've never took you up on your offer...That you were a troublemaker..." she mumbled, not sure how he would take that part of the story.

Beetle's eyes narrowed, as he slowly sat the flask down. "Oh, she did, did she?" he growled, an evil grin forming on his face. "That ole' bag didn't go by the name Juno, by any chance, did she?"

Lydia slowly nodded, remembering how the old woman's face wrinkled in pure frustration when mentioning Beetlejuice. She remembered watching Juno suck hard on her cigarette, her vein ridden hand trembling with exasperated nerves, as smoke poured from the horizontal slit on her throat. It was obvious that the two had a very long, and very daunting history and that Juno wasn't very fond of the poltergeist's antics. From the predatory glare on Beetle's face, it was safe to say that the feeling was mutual.

Sighing, Lydia continued. "She told me that I was hit by a car, but that was it. The rest of the information regarding my death was confidential, and that I wasn't allowed to see it."

Beetle wrinkled up his nose, coughing on his cigarette smoke. "What? Why the hell not?!"

"Juno told me I was penalized for breaking a deal with you, and that meant that I was restricted from knowing the true nature of my death right away like most people who come here. She said I have to learn for myself, if I ever want to know. I was doomed to wander the Neitherworld until I found the answer..." Lydia sighed, feeling shaken inside from recalling just how terrified she felt waking up on the other side with no knowledge of how she'd arrived there. She then thought of the irony of how her seventeen year old self would have been ecstatic to have landed in the Neitherworld. Of course, that was ten years ago, and her gothic-inspired teenage angst had come and gone. Now, she was simply left with questions and no answers. She couldn't even channel her dearly-beloved Maitlands, seeing as they would know the details of her death from Charles and Delia. There was only one person in this strange and unusual place that knew her, and he was currently sitting across from her, picking bug legs out of his teeth.

"Damn..." Beetlejuice muttered, flicking a roach leg into the floor. "You got a shit deal, Deetz."

"Yeah, it sucks..." Lydia propped her chin on her fist, watching a colony of ants devour a moldy piece of bread in the corner.

Mesmerized temporarily by the sheer girth and number of said ants, Lydia slightly startled, hearing Beetle clear his throat uncomfortably. Her eyes darted back to him, watching an awkward look form on his face.

"Uh...So you got a fiance, right? I'm guessin that guy took a dirt nap, too, considerin' yer lookin' for him." he spoke, his tone flat and unreadable once again.

"I did have a fiance while I was alive." she muttered, feeling a twinge of painful memories well up in her chest. " I found his picture in the obituaries only a few days after I arrived in the waiting room. I couldn't read it, though. It was encrypted or something, and he must have had a different case worker, because he was never in there with me. I guess I can still call him my fiance...I'm not so sure anymore..."

Beetle gave her a confused look, raising a brow. "Isn't shit like that usually pretty simple? Either you two were gonna get hitched, or you weren't. Ain't that normally how it works?" he blurted out, with Lydia noting his trademark ability to be completely inconsiderate of even the most sensitive of subjects.

She could feel herself glare at him. "Yes, _genius_ , that is normally how it works..." she spat irritably, actually feeling more frustrated with her past than Beetlejuice himself.

Beetle threw up his hands defensively. "Hey, easy there partner! No need to get all rabid and hormonal toward the ole' B-man! I know you womenfolk can have certain _problems_ during certain times of the month an' all, and I know it can make ya real moody an' stuff, but-"

"Dear god, it's not that! Geeze! Just let me finish..." Lydia interrupted his bout of idiocy. "I mean, I still call him my fiance, but I really didn't know if our relationship was over before I died." Lydia could feel her voice grow raspy from the tense feeling in her throat. She watched Beetlejuice's face straighten somewhat, his green eyes narrowing in what seemed to be genuine curiousity.

"What happened?" he asked, this time without acting like a complete asshole.

"We were gonna get married. We set a date, and the time came, and..." Lydia stared at her thumbs, which she'd unconsciously began twiddling like a child. She briefly glanced up at the poltergeist, internally baffled by the strange expression on his face. It was kind of...serious. That was different. "I was the only one that showed up. I had no idea why he didn't come. I didn't get a call, a visit, word of mouth - nothing that told me why he decided not to marry me. " Lydia recalled, waiting for the moment when Beetlejuice would thoroughly rub it in her face and laugh hysterically as expected.

Strangely enough, he didn't. He just kept staring, his green eyes studying her from the black, hollowed skin surrounding them. "Damn, what a prick. You sure know how to pick 'em." he stated honestly, albeit bluntly.

"You're telling me." Lydia replied, shooting him a knowing look that she intended to include him in that statement as well.

He simply smirked, seeming ready to hear more. "So what about this party? I thought you said you and prince charmin' were together before you kicked the bucket." he commented, as Lydia nearly grinned from the ghost's unique way with words.

"I wasn't with him. I was looking for him. I hadn't heard from him, and it was his cousin's party. They were close, so I knew he'd be there. I dressed up, I went to the party, and I even asked around for him. I was told he hadn't arrived yet, and I remember going outside to get some fresh air while I waited for him. There was a park just across the street, and a bench. I started walking toward it, and all I remember is bright lights, and...well, now I'm here..." she shrugged, disturbed by the memories of her final moments.

"Pretty sure that's borderline stalking there, Deetz." Beetlejuice snorted.

Lydia glared, feeling angry that he was poking fun at her worst moments. Of course, she reminded herself that she was spilling her guts to Beetlejuice, of all people. What did she expect? She sighed, deciding not to argue for lack of energy to do so. It was draining enough to remember it, let alone argue over it. "I just wanted answers." she said, suddenly embarrassed by the pitiful tone of her own voice.

"Hate to say it, Babe, but I think you got yer answer. The asshole stood ya up." he stated, still seeming to hold back on what Lydia figured would inevitably turn into another subject to eternally torment her with. But then again, who could blame him. She'd done the same thing to him at one point. She'd went back on her word, even if he'd given her a dirty deal. It was still a deal, and he did save Barbara and Adam, after all. Beetlejuice, unlike herself, had kept his promise. Did that mean she was lower than him? Ugh...hopefully not.

"Yeah, I guess your right. He was avoiding me. That was a pretty clear 'no' to the marriage thing. It's just...I guess I wanted to know why. And deep down..." Lydia trailed off, suddenly stopping herself from revealing the most vulnerable part of herself. She looked back to Beetlejuice, who was clearly interested by the whole story, eagerly awaiting more.

"What?" he asked, trying to coax it out of her.

Ah, what the hell, Lydia figured. He knew everything else. "Deep down I hoped he'd change his mind. I hoped he'd take me back..." she spoke quietly, feeling ashamed of her desperation.

She looked timidly to Beetle, who seemed to be giving her the _what the fuck_ look. Immediately feeling stupid, she blurted out, "I know, I know...I'm pathetic...You don't have to look at me like that..."

"Who said that's why I was lookin' at you like that?" he retorted defensively. "I just don't see why you'd waste your time on him, that's all. Sounds like a piece of shit to me."

"Really?" Lydia furrowed her brow, bewildered by his reaction. He seemed to be remotely on her side, and that made her feel strangely comforted. Then she figured she probably was crazy, after all.

"Yeah, really." he stated, his expression growing agitated. "Anyone who would stand someone up on their wedding day is a bit of an asshole, don't you think, Lyds? You know, someone who would go back on their _word_? Break a _deal_?" he spoke slowly and purposefully, emphasizing each part loud and clear. Maybe she'd reached her conclusion far too soon. Maybe he wasn't really on her side at all. Then again, he had every right to be bitter.

Lydia sighed, defeated. "Yeah, I guess you could say so...So that's why I wanted to tell you I'm sorry earlier. The same thing happened to me."

"Yeah, Karma can be a real bitch." Beetle commented smugly, seeming content to see her get what he must have felt was coming.

"Now I know how you feel. I mean, you didn't love me or anything, but you did get your hopes up. You wanted out, and I didn't make that happen..." Lydia continued, for the sole purpose of clearing her conscience. She didn't figure Beetle to be the forgiving type, so his reactions, however annoying, would be expected. The look on his face, however restrained, was also clearly resentful.

"...And you did save Barbara and Adam. I wouldn't have them if it wasn't for you. I know I didn't keep my side of the bargain, but I am grateful. I know you probably don't care, but thanks for...you know...saving them..." she mumbled, not sure whether to shut up or run out the front door, considering the look he was now giving her.

Lydia bit her lip worriedly, watching Beetle glare at her. She could have sworn she'd seen his eye twitch as he brought his chin to rest on his grimy fists. He licked his slimy, green teeth before flashing an evil grin. "...You know what, Deetz? You're a real piece a work, you know that? Ten years ago you was cryin' to me about wantin' in this dump...I make a deal with you, and I save your beloved Maitlands from bein' exorcized by Satan's interior designer, and you know what I get? Babs, the sweetheart that she is, trains a fuckin' sandworm to devour my ass whole! And while you guys get to be the mortuary's version of the Walton's, I get to wait five fuckin' years just to see that wrinkly bitch Juno's face scrunch up to tell me I gotta spend the next four locked up..." he growled, his voice low and unnervingly calm.

Lydia's eyes grew wide, observing his expression grow more dangerous with each word. The light overhead began to dim and flicker, as he grew in his rage. "Y-you've just been out a year?" she stuttered, feeling suddenly aware of his immense power again, and growing more fearful because of it.

"Hehe. Yer damn right I have. Now I see you all grown up - smokin' hot - and you show up with your nice ass and your sad stories. And then you expect me to just listen and tell you EVERYTHING'S PEACHY BETWEEN US! RIGHT, LYDS?! NO HARD FEELINGS?! HUH?!" his voice raised to a dangerously loud yell, as Lydia stood quickly, causing her chair to fall back and hit the floor. Oh, God. What had she done? Was she really stupid enough to believe that he'd take things even remotely well?

Out of fear and impulse, she bolted out of the room, heading for the front door a second time, only to find it bound up by freakishly large chains and locks. Against her own common sense, she began to pound on the door.

"Ah, ah, ah...We made a deal, Lydia Deetz. You still have to help me." Beetle spoke in her ear from behind, startling her enough to make her shriek.

"FINE! Fine! Just...don't do anything...bad..." Lydia whimpered, her back now against the chained door.

Beetlejuice leaned close to her, his taller form looming over her. She smelled his whisky and smoke laced breath, blowing cold on her face. His green eyes nearly glowed, as his forehead almost touched her own. "What's wrong, Babe?" he spoke, taunting her in a raspy voice barely above a whisper. It was at that moment that every light in the roadhouse went out, causing Lydia to gasp.

"You scared?" he finished, growing deathly silent. After a few moments, she wasn't even sure he was still in the room.

Lydia, not knowing what else to do, began to feel around in the dark. "Betel-" she stopped suddenly, her mouth somehow forced shut by his power.

"Nope. Can't have you sayin' the B-word, Babe. That's rule number one. Don't say that word, got it?" his disembodied voice echoed off the walls, as Lydia nodded frantically in the dark.

"Good. Now when folks go saying mah name in the world where people have pulses, then I'm fine. It just brings me there, and that's cool as hell. You go sayin' it here, though, and I have no fuckin' clue what it does. Okay, rule number two: you can't leave this house unless I tell you to, or we're square, kapeesh?" he snarled, his voice sounding like an Italian mobster toward the end.

Lydia sighed, nodding again. Why in the world did she agree to stay with him? Was she really that hell bent on self-destructing?

"And rule numero tres: you have to do what I tell ya - at least until you finish your side of the bargain. So, Lyds, what'll it be?" he hissed, his voice gaining momentum again, causing her spine to tingle in an unsettling way.

"Mm-hmm!" she grunted, nodding her head hysterically in an attempt to get him to turn off his special brand of misery.

"Alright, then..." Beetle said smugly, as Lydia heard the snap of his fingers. Suddenly, all the lights came back on, causing her to squint at their glaring brightness. She immediately felt of her mouth, which was now free, much to her relief. "Now that we got that outta the way, what're ya in the mood fer? Hmm? Poker? Drinks? Hot, kinky sex?" Beetlejuice sneered from across the room, holding another cigarette between his fingers. "You know, they say the angry kind's the best." he snorted, waggling his eyebrows.

What kind of fresh hell did she get herself into? Was a clear conscience really worth enduring Beetlejuice? Lydia gulped, realizing the magnitude of what she'd just done.

"C-can I just go to bed?" Lydia asked timidly, hoping to get as far away from him as possible within the confines of her new prison.

"Sure thing, Babe. I'll be right behind ya...Or on top of ya...Oh, hell, I'm feelin' generous. I'll let you take the reins, Peaches!" he snorted, clearly delighting in her torment.

"I'll just sleep on the couch..." Lydia muttered, disgusted with the images he was provoking.

Beetle shrugged, "Suit yerself." He then proceeded to leave the room, cackling hysterically, while leaving a trail of smoke behind him.


	7. Pesky Conversations

Chapter 7: Pesky Conversations

Beetlejuice stomped into his bedroom, slamming the door behind himself.

"FUCK!" he hissed, balling his fists as he kicked his rickety old bed, causing it to crash to the floor. "Piece a shit furniture..." he muttered to himself, finding somewhere to misdirect his rage.

He then grew quiet, seating himself on the edge of the broken bed, seething inside. Since when did he start feeling _pity_? The last time he checked, he still had a pair of balls between his legs, which should have eradicated all those estrogen-fueled emotions - including that particular one! Hell, the last time he'd felt actual pity was for himself when he realized you could still contract the clap in the Neitherworld. He felt it even more so when he got cured, only to realize there was a ninety-nine point nine percent chance he'd probably catch it again. Damn his love for cheap sex!

Of course, those were all warranted reasons for such an unwelcome emotion. What wasn't warranted, however, was feeling sympathy in any form for a certain Lydia Deetz. He didn't understand why he felt it, either. Maybe it was those big, sad, doe eyes, or the pitiful way she bit her lip when she was nervous. Hell, it was almost _endearing_.

And it sure as fuck didn't help that the woman grew up to be drop-dead (no pun intended) gorgeous. Sure, she used to be a cute kid, but that was just it - she was a fuckin' kid! He may have tried marrying her, but it was merely a business deal - he wasn't into that kind of sick shit. It was just so much easier dealing with her back then - the only time he felt a small pang of sympathy was when she'd told him she wanted in the afterlife, which he couldn't fathom in the least. Now, she was all grown and hot and sad, and he was hanging on to every word like a sap.

He'd spent five grueling years with his head the size of a golf ball in that cess pit of a waiting room, only to regain a head of normal size and be thrown in the clanker. Good thing he'd been locked up in solitary or he'd have a really large, aching asshole by now. What boggled him the most was that after nine years of hellish waiting, he should've had enough pent up rage to burst Lydia Deets into flames upon eye contact. Instead, she walks into his life and he starts feeling... _things_...for her. A total of ten complete years were spent meticulously building resentment, and in a matter of days, Lydia Deetz walks right in and de-balls him. Shit.

To make matters worse, he didn't see how that prick of a fiance (or whatever the fuck he was supposed to be) could up and leave a hot little thing like that. Even more disturbing, was the fact that he found her personality to be pleasant, and that word wasn't even in his vocabulary. He'd even felt a slight twinge of another emotion he didn't dare name, when he thought of another bastard potentially marrying her. That, he was sure, meant that someone, somewhere was reaping divine punishment upon him. Shit, he hadn't felt that emotion since he'd been alive, and that was a hell of a long time ago!

He was losing it fast, and he was well aware of it. Lydia Deetz had him by the balls whether she realized it or not, and that's why he decided to counteract those gushy feelings with a bit of violence and havoc (those were kind of his thing, after all). It seemed to work. She still seemed to think he was a hate-filled maniac, and he got a new bargain out of his shenanigans. Win-win situation.

* * *

Lydia eyed Beetlejuice's refrigerator, half in fear, half in disgust, as she pondered on whether it was wise to actually open the moldy, crust-encased appliance. She'd awakened an hour ago, not quite sure of what to do with herself in her new prison-slash-home. Well aware of her own expiration, Lydia knew she didn't technically have to eat. However, she loved food when she was alive, and it just didn't feel right not to ingest something. That being said, the contents of Beetle's fridge would be questionable at best.

Sighing with indecision, Lydia examined her surroundings, partly in awe of the fact that one being could accumulate more grime and refuse than a landfill. Every room was filthy, every wall was moldy and adorned with cobwebs, and the floor was apparently used for the same purpose as the trash can. There were more cigarette butts in his filthy carpet than sands in the desert.

Finally letting curiosity overtake her, Lydia slowly opened the door, only to gasp when several insects ran out of it, screaming. _Screaming?_ Once the fearful creatures were out of her way, she saw about fifty empty beer bottles and a pack of cigarettes. _Figures._ She rolled her eyes, frustrated.

Lydia wandered back into Beetle's living room, plunking herself down on his sofa unceremoniously. _Might as well watch some TV since there's nothing else to do in_ _this hell hole_ , she figured. Noticing there were no buttons on the television, Lydia started scanning about for the remote, before coming up empty-handed.

"It's got to be somewhere..." Lydia mumbled, now digging in the couch. Reaching in between the cushions, she smirked, feeling smooth plastic and buttons on her fingertips. Grasping the object, Lydia shrieked, when something tugged back on it, nearly pulling her arm down into the god forsaken depths of Beetle's abysmal sofa. She quickly released the remote, frantically yanking her hand up from the depths.

"Ugh..." Lydia placed her face in her palms, already feeling defeated. She realized she'd only been awake under two hours, and already she was miserable. After last night, she'd officially deemed herself as insane as the poltergeist she was currently living with. What in the hell was she thinking? She should've known her good intentions wouldn't go unpunished around Beetlejuice. Of course he'd react terribly to her! She'd betrayed him over a decade ago, and he'd only been free for one year. She considered herself lucky that he hadn't blasted her to Saturn by now. She then figured things could always be worse, as she could've have ended up as Sandworm food.

Why did she feel so guilty for breaking her promise, anyway? Beetle was the one who'd pressured her at the worst possible moment, knowing she'd give in to save Adam and Barbara. He was a manipulator, a crook, and an idiot to boot. Nothing about him should've motivated her to apologize.

But then something happened to her when her fiance left her standing at the altar. She remembered the humiliation and the hurt she felt from his rejection. Lydia remembered laying awake at night desperately racking her brain for answers, only to come up empty-handed. Then she began to remember the _other_ wedding, and a small pang of remorse that she never knew existed suddenly began to well up inside of her. The ghost was an asshole, but did he really deserve to be eaten? Maybe she would've felt less sympathetic had he not saved her beloved Maitlands. Therein was the problem - he'd saved two ghosts that Lydia had now grown to love like a second set of parents. Without him, she wouldn't have had Adam and Barbara around, and without them, she couldn't have seen her outlook on life turning around like it had. They were the positive influences she needed to grow and learn, and Beetlejuice was to thank for that. Truthfully, she didn't even know if he'd be around once she crossed over to the other side. For all Lydia knew, Beetlejuice could've been permanently vanquished. Strangely enough, the thought of him being gone forever sort of bothered her in a way she couldn't quite fathom.

Now her cleansed conscience and her big mouth had landed her smack in the middle of his plans to get out once more. She wasn't so sure what kind of scheme Beetle had cooked up, but it would more than likely mean trouble. She certainly hoped he'd quit losing his temper in the near future, given the fact that he'd already scared the daylights out of her twice in their short time together. Lydia may have been a ghost herself, but dealing with the likes of Beetlejuice was to be dealing with a powerful force to be reckoned with, given that force may have been cleverly hidden under a masquerade of lechery and feigned stupidity. She truly wasn't sure what he was capable of, but she sensed that she'd never seen his full potential. Lydia reasoned that if there was one being who could successfully kill her a second time, it would be Beetlejuice, and that was beyond unsettling. However, she also sensed that he'd been holding back, even during his worst moments, both past and present.

"The fuck are you doin' up so early?" a gruff, grumpy voice muttered, as Lydia found herself being pulled back into the present.

She turned to find Beetlejuice propped against the wall in a raggedy old robe, pulling his flask out to take a drink.

"Isn't it a little early to be getting wasted?" Lydia blurted out, feeling instantly irritated by his presence.

"You call it wasted, I call it breakfast, buttercup." he grinned widely, before throwing back the flask and chugging it. He wiped his grimy hand over his lips. "Ah...You know what they say: most important meal of the day, an' all..."

"What's living in your couch?" Lydia asked. "I tried to get the remote, and I'm pretty sure something down there attempted to abduct me."

"Oh, that..." Beetle chuckled. "Just a teeny, tiny little pest problem I got goin' on. You know how it is. Tried callin' the exterminator, but he's booked up for about two hundred years, with it bein' termite season an' all. But don't you worry, there ain't nothin' gonna pull you down and de-bone you, or slurp out yer innards or anything." he mumbled, clearly lying. "And really, that only happened one time, and I paid her for her services beforehand, so it ain't like I feel bad or anything..."

Lydia jumped off the sofa, yipping as she felt something moving about under the cushions while Beetle spoke. "Oh god..." she gasped, looking to Beetlejuice, who smirked deviously at her. "Gee thanks, that makes me feel so much better."

"No problem, Babe. I do what I can." he straightened his robe, before plopping on the couch and reaching into its depths. Lydia's eyes grew wide hearing the grotesque noises coming from beneath the cushions. Beetle furrowed his brow, "Hmmm...gotta be in here somewhere...It's the last place I put it...Ah-ha! Here it - woah." He suddenly seemed stunned, pulling out a nub where his hand used to be. "Uh...maybe I ought to put a rush on that appointment, whaddya think?" he grinned stupidly at Lydia, who could clearly see that he was full of shit.

"I think I'll just sit on the floor..." Lydia huffed, folding her arms.

"Alright, alright! There ain't nothin' gonna get ya. See?" he said, as Lydia saw his missing hand rise up from the depths and wave at her.

"So that was you trying to pull me in?" Lydia asked, now placing her hands on her hips.

"Guilty as charged." he grinned devilishly, as his detached hand patted the empty space beside him. "Have a seat, Babe. I won't bite... _hard_." he smiled wickedly, licking his green teeth.

"Only if I don't have to sit on your hand." Lydia looked to Beetle in disgust.

"Ya sure?" Beetlejuice waggled his eyebrows mischievously. Lydia made sure to shoot him a glare of pure disgust to get her point across. "Fine..." he muttered, reaching into the couch and pulling out a fully-attached hand once more.

Warily, Lydia seated herself beside him, as he turned on the television, quickly changing past the porn channel it had currently been set to. Then things grew quiet - awkwardly quiet. Lydia could've sworn Beetle seemed uncomfortable somehow, as he sat mindlessly channel surfing.

Oh, what the hell, she thought. "So...You seem in a better mood today, considering you're not clamping my mouth shut." Lydia began, feeling the urge to pick his brain. Then she began to inwardly question why that urge happened in the first place.

Beetlejuice shot her a look, not looking the least bit amused. "Not the best way to start off there, Babe." he glared, feigning a smile. "Might wanna work on yer conversation skills."

"Well, it's true. Besides, I'm stuck here now, remember? What am I supposed to do, not speak at all?" Lydia spat, irritated by his avoidance. She figured that if she had to be a prisoner in his dumpster fire of a house, then she should at least be able to speak her mind. Of course, she quickly reminded herself that she was being a psycho and that Beetlejuice wasn't exactly one to be diplomatic.

"Damn it. Shoulda' made that rule number four..." Beetle grumbled, scratching his head.

"Well, you didn't." Lydia stated bluntly, slightly content with her small victory. Unfortunately, that feeling was cut short by her curiosity. The only thing she'd seen the poltergeist do since she met him on the other side was drink and attempt to get laid. Surely there was more to him then that, wasn't there? And why hadn't he burst her into flames yet (not that she was complaining or anything)? "So, uh...What do I do?" she continued, genuinely curious.

"Easy, whatever I tell ya." Beetle snorted, appearing completely satisfied with his newfound position to boss her around.

"I know...I mean now. You're not telling me anything." Lydia spoke, noticing a strange look on his features. He almost seemed a bit caught off-guard.

"There's nothin' to tell." he shrugged. "Do whatever. I don't give a shit right now."

"What?" Lydia's brow furrowed, as she tried to figure out why he was acting so different all of a sudden. Wasn't he hell-bent on making her do his bidding just last night? "Don't you want to talk about me helping you get out? Is there a certain person you're trying to marry or something? Or..."

"Fuck..." Beetle grumbled, wiping a hand over his face. "Not now, Deetz. It's too fuckin' early for this shit. God, I need a smoke..." Beetle said irritably, forming a cigarette in his hand out of thin air.

What was up with him? "Why do you want to get out so badly anyway?" she inquired, far too curious to pay heed to his warning.

She watched as Beetlejuice took a long, hard drag from his smoke before turning to her and blowing smoke in her face, causing her to cough and choke on it. "Let's just say it's none of yer damn business and move on, Deetz."

Now she was intrigued. Something was up with him, though Lydia wasn't quite sure what. She couldn't help but feel the urge to ask the ghoul more, for her natural tendency to be curious was winning the war with her common sense.

Maybe a quick change in subject was in order, Lydia mused. Even better, a subject that would ultimately achieve the goal of helping Beetlejuice and then getting far, far away from him. Fanning violently at the suffocating smoke, Lydia asked, "Just what are you trying to do, anyway? How are you trying to get out?"

Beetlejuice groaned at her questions. "What the fuck is up with all this interrogation? What were you, a private investigator or some shit?"

Lydia grinned, feeling as if she was wearing him down a bit. If he was keeping her around, he'd have to get used to her questions anyway. "A detective? Not even close..." she chuckled. "Please?" she then asked, trying to snuff out the rest of his resistance that didn't make any sense in the first place. Why would he need her help, and not tell her anything about it?

"So?" she persisted, eagerly awaiting his answer.

Beetle didn't speak. Appearing as irritated as ever, he poofed a ratty old newspaper into Lydia's lap, startling her. He flipped a couple of pages, then pointed to an obituary. "There, ya happy?" he huffed.

"Gerald Lunder..." Lydia mumbled aloud, reading the details of Beetle's latest victim. The poor guy had died of a heart attack, and now Beetlejuice was probably going to give him another one. "What's the plan?" Lydia inquired, watching Beetle blow smoke into the air, forming RIP, apparently for his own amusement.

Beetlejuice shot her a leary glance before answering. He almost seemed defensive. "Ah, you know, the usual - at first it was harassing, persuading, stalking, seeping into the recesses of his mind. Didn't work for old chubby, though. Apparently, Jerry isn't interested in the B-man's services. Dipshit." he muttered, clearly not happy with the guy. Of course, Lydia couldn't blame this Gerald fellow for not wanting anything to do with the likes of Beetlejuicee. If anything, the man was smart.

"You see, he's the nerdy, booksmart, doesn't get much ass type. The guy likes peace and quiet. Whatever reason someone would want that shit, I have no idea. Anyway, now he's taking the inevitable dirt nap, and two smokin' hot college babes are livin' in his space, partyin' and bein' awesome an' all that - which the guy hates - and it's drivin' him fuckin' loony, ya know?" Beetle continued, a lecherous grin now forming on his features. "Now I figure, those chicks love to get shit faced. Not buzzed, not tipsy, not a little drunk - no. They like to flat-out get hammered! So what I'm thinkin...I get in while they're judgment is a bit constricted, scare the shit outta them, force one to marry me, and they get the fuck out. Then I get out. You know how it works. I don't even have to see the lucky bride again! All I need is her word, ya know?" he explained, seeming to grow excited with the anticipation of it all.

"So...what do I do?" Lydia asked, wondering how she could play a part in all this.

"I dunno yet. I figured maybe you could talk to ole' Jerr for me. Apparently, the little prick doesn't like my methods. I can't convince him to let me out. Maybe he'll listen to you..." he paused, scratching his head and averting his eyes from Lydia awkwardly. "You know, you got all that 'nice' shit goin' on. Maybe you can butter him up or something. You know, maybe do that sweet talkin' stuff you do?" he muttered uncomfortably.

"What?" Lydia questioned, baffled. "What 'sweet-talking'?"

"You talk nice, damnit! You ain't a big ole' asshole like me, okay? Just be nice to him, and try to convince him to use my services, if ya get mah drift!" he admitted, fuming while he did so.

"Oh." was all Lydia could say. It was a little more than strange to hear Beetle admit a fault of any kind whatsoever. Now she was feeling awkward for some reason she couldn't quite put her finger on. "When do we start?"

Beetlejuice suddenly smirked, his eyes narrowing on her. "You really want rid of me fast, dontcha', Lyds?"

Lydia, startled by the fact that he could read her true motivations like a book, simply stared blankly at him. She had nothing to say to that, really.

"You do, dontcha? You expect me to just sit back and let you take the wheel, eh? You'd get a sweet deal out of it, wouldn't you? You'd help me, I'd get out, and you'd never have to deal with ole' BJ again. Right?" he asked, his voice growing threatening.

"Uh, isn't that what you wanted?" Lydia remarked, trying to counter his onslaught.

"It's not the _only_ thing I wanted, Deetz. I was forced to wait for nine years...Nine fuckin' years, Deetz! I've been free for one! You get mah drift? You ain't gettin' outta this so easy. We'll do this when I damn well feel like it, and the B-man doesn't feel one bit like fuckin' with that fat nerd and his college bimbos at the moment!" he yelled, causing Lydia's heart to sink. This was it. She truly was stuck with him for the long haul, and all because of her stupid conscience. Damn it. "Understand?!" he spat, pointing his grimy finger in her face, the cigarette nearly touching her and causing her to wince.

Feeling exhausted and defeated, Lydia simply nodded, folding her arms and sinking back into the couch like a scolded child. Silence filled the musty air of his home, feeling thick like the rings of smoke coming from Beetle's disgusting mouth. She needed away from him, if only for a moment. It was just too much to fathom living with him for, well, however long he wanted to torment her.

"BJ?" she asked timidly, not daring to use the angry ghoul's name. Beetle, who'd returned to mindlessly flipping through the channels, paused briefly, not looking at her. "Is it okay if I sleep in your bed for a bit? I didn't sleep well last night..." she mumbled, trying her best to stay civil, despite the growing urge to punch him in the groin with a vengeance.

Beetle stayed quiet a moment, before shrugging. "Yeah, whatever..." he muttered, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Lydia slowly stood up, walking to his bedroom, where she flopped on his filthy bed, sighing. At least she had some distance from him, if only for a little while.


	8. Small Victories

Chapter 8: Small Victories

"Damn it..." Beetle grumbled as he heard his bedroom door close. What in the sky blue fuck was wrong with him?! If he was any kind of man at all, he would've sent her straight to old Jerry's apartment and proceeded to bag a living wife!

He didn't, of course. No. He had to find an excuse to keep her around. Why was this happening to _him_ of all undead people - the ghost with the most? What happened to cheap hookers and dirty bars? What happened to scaring the daylights out of the living and the dead? Hell, most of the inhabitants of the Neitherworld feared him, while the other part flat out avoided him for his lechery or profound lack of likability. Beetlejuice was not one to be keeping a chick around for the sole purpose of her company - especially a chick who had landed him in the clinker for four years! Beetlejuice was not one to get lonely! _That would be insane_ , he mentally reprimanded himself.

He'd even turned off his beloved porn for fear of disgusting Lydia, instead of asking her to join him in watching (and possibly imitating) said porn! This wasn't HIM! And why the fuck did he admit she was nice? A poltergeist like himself didn't just go around flattering ladies on their personalities. No, someone like him would slap a bitch's ass and call it a night!

The problem was that he _did_ intend to keep Lydia around. Sure, the woman was hot as hell, but that wasn't really it. She really was (ugh...) nice. If anything, she seemed to be the only ghost who could tolerate him. Truthfully, he'd been a bit lonely all those years. Cheap horizontal tangos and booze could only help a guy so much.

Beetle turned off his TV, tossing the remote to the side apathetically. He grunted, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in his own corpse. He then remembered Lydia's burning question. Why _did_ he want out so bad? It was the whole dead thing. True, he'd cheated the system long ago and gained some kick-ass powers and all that, but the dead thing was just...creepy.

True, he'd been just as insufferably criminal in his previous life as he was in this one, but now he'd become a freakish caricature of his former being. He'd always loved booze and broads, but now he was a menacing, powerful poltergeist who's cravings only seemed to intensify as eternity dragged along. It was damn near intolerable at times. Nobody could stand him, and he knew it. At least as a breather, he'd had companions and fellow partakers in crime and such fuckery. Now, being who and what he was, Beetlejuice was alone. That's why he'd wanted out. If he came across to the other side - he'd get to start over.

Keeping Lydia around seemed to alleviate his loneliness a bit, and he wouldn't dare tell a soul that. He'd barely admit it to himself, but she'd been good company. Hell, she'd make a damn fine wife, if she wasn't so dead and shit. Thankfully, he found a way to keep her around, without exactly revealing why. Now she simply thought he was just being his asshole self. Of course, that could also pose a different problem. How would she ever stand him if he kept badgering her? Then Beetlejuice had to remind himself that he wasn't supposed to give a shit in the first place. He was getting out, Lydia wasn't. Whatever. It was stupid, anyway. Fuck.

Beetlejuice stood up, stretching his legs and scratching his protruding stomach, briefly trying to distract himself with something to do. Hell, there was only one distraction in that house. He promptly grabbed a bottle of half-empty whiskey from his coffee table and seated himself. Two clicks of the remote and it was back to his mind-numbingly beautiful porn.

"Hehehe...Yeah...That's the stuff..." he growled, propping his feet upon his rickety table. Amid the haze of asses and other unspeakable body parts, he found himself distracted from his original distraction - and that was just fucked up.

The apology. Did Lydia really mean it? Did she actually feel remorse for screwing him over? She'd better feel bad! He was so damned close to getting out, and she just took that from him. She'd protested, stalling just enough for Babs to ultimately turn his ass into Sandworm bait. Not only had Lydia stated her remorse, but thanked him, of all people. She thanked Beetlejuice for saving Adam and Babs, and that was something he'd never heard in all his years. She thanked _him._ She was grateful. That was fuckin' weird. What was he supposed to do with that? Act all nice now? Nah...

He wanted out, and that was the goal. No use wooin' a dead chick he couldn't have anyway. She was way out of his league, and he knew that. She had to be bullshitting about not getting any attention. She was fucking gorgeous. _Damn she would've made a good wife_ , he thought regretfully.

It was at that moment that he reached his conclusion: he had no fucking idea what he was gonna do. So he swiftly decided to just roll with it - have a little fun with ole' Deetz, and get out. Simple.

* * *

Lydia opened her eyes, realizing she'd actually dozed off on that poor excuse for a bed. She raised up, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and wondering just how long she'd been out. She hadn't actually meant to fall asleep. She merely wanted to escape the likes of looking at Beetlejuice, if only for a little while. Sleep had simply been a side-effect.

Lydia scooted herself to the edge of the bed, where she sat studying the fabric of her black, sequined gown. She absent-mindedly ran her hand over an area just atop her thigh that she'd stitched back together after finding a gaping hole in the fabric there.

She pondered on how to handle this particular situation. On one hand, she wasn't getting away from Beetle any time soon. He'd made that loud and clear. On the other, he didn't want to play nice while she was trapped with him. He was cranky, belligerent, unpredictable, and downright lecherous. How was she supposed to deal with that and have any semblance of sanity left? She needed to find a way to get along with him - one that didn't include sex, of course.

However, that was the dilemma. She'd treated him as amicably as possible, and yet, he seemed to retaliate at the end of every conversation. She had to admit, she was completely lost. She'd just have to try harder and go from there. There really wasn't much else she could do. She was indebted to Beetlejuice, after all, and that in and of itself was both a paradox and a nightmare. However, she'd have to manage.

Deciding to quit stewing on her inner-turmoil, Lydia stretched, before quietly creaking his bedroom door open. She peered down the dark hallway, noting that the roadhouse had grown dim with the darkness of night. She'd been asleep all day, apparently.

Lydia quietly pattered down the hallway, noting how quiet and still the old house seemed. Maybe that asshole had passed out already. It wouldn't surprise her. Unfortunately, the TV was still blaring in his livingroom, and he was sprawled out on the couch, scratching his unmentionables and drinking a beer. _He certainly was_ _consistent_ , Lydia thought, rolling her eyes.

Suddenly, Beetle chuckled at whatever trainwreck of a show he was watching, while a big, juicy hamburger materialized in mid-air. Beetlejuice grabbed the tasty-looking food, shoving it in his mouth in a less than appealing manner.

"I wish I could do that..." Lydia mumbled to herself, catching the poltergeist's attention.

Lydia closed her mouth quickly, as Beetle slowly turned to look at her over his shoulder. His lips were splattered with mustard. "Er...wut?" he babbled, his mouth still stuffed with meat.

"I, uh...said I wish I could do that. You know, make something delicious and fattening appear in thin air. I know we don't have to eat or anything, but I miss the taste of food." Lydia explained, still standing in the doorway. Dear god, she'd even eat Delia's pitiful excuse for cooking at this point.

"Why can't ya? Didn't you read that handbook or whatever? Tells all about it in there." Beetle replied, chomping on his burger in the process.

"Yeah, I read it." Lydia sighed. "I tried that whole focusing my thoughts and energy thing like it said, but nothing happened. I'm beginning to think I'm restricted from those powers, too."

"Fuck, Deetz! That's like some rudimentary shit, there! What _can_ you do?" Beetle looked at her, appearing truly baffled.

"Nothing. I've tried. I followed the handbook, word for word, but nothing happens. I guess I'm just screwed for now." Lydia folded her arms, staring down at the floor. This was probably the part where Beetlejuice would spit out his burger and laugh maniacally for the next three hours.

What happened next, however, Lydia hadn't expected.

"Want one?" Beetle asked, gesturing to his burger.

Lydia's eyebrows raised. Well, that was different. "Yeah..." Suddenly, a large, juicy hamburger materialized in front of her face. She happily grabbed it before seating herself beside Beetle.

Trying not to be detected, Lydia quickly skimmed through the contents of said burger to make sure nothing disgusting had been placed inside, as she'd expected.

"Don't worry, Babe. Didn't put any bugs in yours. That's kinda my thing." he stated, clearly catching on to what she was thinking.

At that very moment, a large beetle crawled out from the remaining contents of his food, running down his arm, and screaming for dear life.

Lydia's eyes grew wide, as Beetle grabbed the unfortunate victim, shoving it in his mouth. Chomping loudly, he grinned, with bug legs sticking out from his green, slimy teeth. "Shoulda made it well done."

Even though Lydia found it utterly disgusting, she forced herself to actually laugh at one of his idiotic attempts at humor, figuring that it could possibly lighten his mood. She'd reasoned that she could try humoring him to see if it could help her situation. Maybe if Beetle was in a less-defensive, overall better mood, then he'd quit wanting to torment her afterlife and just get out and leave her be.

Beetle just grinned, seeming content with himself. "Heya...You gonna eat that?" he asked, pointing to her burger, which was still untouched due to the fact that eating beside Beetlejuice was a horrifically revolting experience.

"Oh, yeah." Lydia smiled, swallowing hard and trying not to look at him or think of the bug guts currently resting in his godawful mouth. She hesitantly took a bite, her thoughts instantly changing to the delicious flavors she hadn't had the opportunity to taste in what seemed like forever. She just made sure not to let her eyes wander to Beetle's gross face again, so she simply stared at the TV.

"Sleep well, Deetz?" Beetle asked, seeming to try and start a conversation with her. That was a good enough start, Lydia reasoned.

"Yeah. So, why are you up so late?" Lydia inquired.

"Pffft! The ole' B-man never sleeps!" Beetle laughed, and Lydia could've sworn she'd seen a bug leg fly across the room.

"I'm pretty sure you slept the first night I stayed here." Lydia remarked.

"Passin' out doesn't count, Babe! Ole' BJ likes to party 'till he drops." Beetlejuice countered.

Lydia began to wonder if drinking and women were all Beetle thought about. Surely not. "Is that all you like to do?" Lydia asked, trying her best not to sound rude, but feeling as if she'd already failed miserably.

"Why? What the fuck's wrong with it?" his face contorted into an expression that told her he wasn't amused. He seemed rather offended.

"I mean...What do you like to do? I was just wondering..." Lydia remarked, quickly trying to keep yet another conversation from derailing.

She watched as Beetle paused a moment, his wild green eyes narrowing in on her. He then vanished his nasty burger in thin air. Replacing it was a delicate teacup on a small plate in his hand, with him now daintily dunking a teabag in said cup. He proceeded to clear his throat and furnish a particularly snobbish British accent.

"Eh-hem. I'm so glad you asked, Ms. Deetz. I like to spend my days in the garden, reading the great literary works of our time! I also study the art of interpretive dance while simultaneously learning dead languages, sipping tea, and nibbling crumpets." He spoke in a completely smart-assed manner, his demeaner growing darker and his tone of voice changing back to its previous form. "Yeah, cuz I'm ALL ABOUT THAT SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK, DEETZ?! LOOK WHO YOU'RE TALKIN' TO HERE!" he fumed.

That went well, Lydia thought sarcastically to herself. Still, she had to try. Maybe she could still turn this trainwreck around. She didn't understand why Beetle hated talking about himself, but she needed the incessant yelling and raging to stop. So, she tried something else.

"Uh...You want to play cards or something?" she asked hesitantly, feeling her face curl into a grimace from her own internal cringing.

"What?" Beetle's brow furrowed, as he sat, dumfounded. _At least that stopped the yelling._

"I was just wondering if there was anything you liked to do. You know, like play cards or something." Lydia asked as innocently as she could muster.

"You play Poker?" Beetle asked, raising a wary brow.

* * *

Lydia looked over her pitiful hand of cards at the poltergeist who was currently wearing a smug grin. He had a visor on his wild head and a freakishly large cigar dangling from his lips, and he was now cackling like a madman.

"I'll take four." Lydia stated, keeping her one high card, clearly not amused with the fact that she hadn't won a single game since they'd began two hours ago. Leave it to her to play a game with a crooked cheater.

Beetle dealt her four cards, each as pathetic as the last handful.

"I'm stayin'." Beetle grinned at her, eyes narrowed and lips fixed with a crooked smirk.

"So, what do you have?" Lydia asked dully, ready to be outdone for the fiftieth time.

Beetle laughed darkly, laying down five Ace's, and causing Lydia to sigh and shake her head.

"Really, BJ? Five?! One of _my_ cards is an Ace! Cheater!" Lydia huffed, carelessly tossing her high card at him, as he began to cackle hysterically. Playing cards with him was a truly destructive activity, given he'd always use his powers to win.

"Do you always play cards this way?" Lydia asked, partly teasing. Even if she was constantly losing, Beetlejuice's blatant cheating did make the game a bit amusing.

"It's how I win mah cash, Babe! If you had any money, you'd be broke and I'd be livin' in the lap of luxury! Haha!" he snorted, pouring himself a drink in one of two shot glasses. "Wanna drink, toots?"

"Ah, what the hell. I've already lost a hundred games of Poker. May as well drown my sorrows." Lydia smirked.

"'Atta girl! 'Bout time you loosened up a bit, Deetz." he grinned, filling the second shot glass and pushing it to her.

"Yeah, I need it. Before I crossed over, I barely drank at all." she stated before downing a shot and wincing at the burn that traveled down her throat. "I guess getting hit by a car is a good enough reason to start." she joked.

Beetle's brow furrowed, as he eyed her up and down, causing Lydia to feel uncomfortable. "Ya know, for someone who supposedly got flattened by a car, you don't look like it..." he spoke, suspicion lacing his voice.

Lydia felt tense, thinking of her final moments, and of the damage the crash had done, however easily hidden. She sensed, however, that Beetle may have been doubting the validity of her story, and that could lead to another rage fit that she didn't feel like putting up with.

"I, uh...It did leave a mark. It's just easy to hide, that's all." Lydia mumbled, knowing he'd want to look.

"Really?" Beetle continued, still not convinced. "Where?"

Inhaling deeply, Lydia stood up, watching Beetle's face fall slack. She walked over to his side of the table, pulling up her gown over her thighs, and expecting him to make some stupid-ass remark. Much to her surprise, he stayed silent, as he eyed the blood-soaked bandages around her upper-legs. The gashes underneath were obviously more than deep enough to sever a main artery. It was a gruesome sight that Lydia had often tried not to think of. However, it was there, regardless.

"Yeah..." she said quietly, pulling her gown back into place. "I didn't even know it was there at first. I didn't limp or anything. I didn't even feel it."

"One of the perks of bein' dead, Babe." Beetlejuice replied, being uncharacteristically respectful to her condition.

"I must have gotten pinned between the car and something else. I think I bled to death, or went into shock or something." she thought aloud, while Beetle took a long drag from his cigar. He seemed to be in thought.

Lydia, feeling anxious from thinking of that fateful night, poured herself another drink and sat down once more.

"Ya know, all this time I thought ya were hard to find. I didn't know you took the big leap. " he said, causing Lydia's brow to raise.

"What do you mean?" she asked, curiously.

"When I got out of the big house, I tried findin' ya. I was pissed, ya know? Wanted to scare the livin' hell outta ya. You know, payback and shit. I couldn't find ya. Guess I didn't put two and two together, huh?" he explained, causing Lydia to feel a strange feeling inside of her. Why just torment _her_ , and not the Maitlands? Not that she wanted them to be tormented by the likes of Beetlejuice, but they had every bit a hand in his banishment as she did.

"I've never even seen my own obituary." Lydia admitted, throwing back her second shot.

"Me either, come to think of it." Beetle mused, scratching his moldy chin.

"Um...Were you gonna force me to marry you again?" Lydia blurted out, letting her curious nature win again.

"What do you think?!" Beetle grunted. "Hell, you were the closest I'd ever came to gettin' outta this fuckin' dump...I figured I'd come back and get you to pay up."

"Oh. Makes sense." Lydia nodded. "I guess I'd want out of this heap, too..." she replied, eyeing the disgusting surroundings. Then she had an idea. "You know, I could clean this place up for you." she suggested, not even sure if Beetle liked things clean. _Probably not,_ she figured.

"Why?" Beetle inquired, looking genuinely confused. _Yep, he definitely liked things dirty._

"Because...It's kind of disgusting..." Lydia hesitantly spoke the truth.

"Whatever...I don't give a shit..." Beetle shrugged, much to her surprise. It would be a repulsive task, but cleaning his nasty roadhouse would prove to make her feel better, anyway. Maybe he'd grow tired of her cleanliness and just let her help him get out already.


	9. Strange Games

Chapter 9: Strange Games

Beetlejuice laid back on his old recliner, watching Lydia desperately brush the filth from his carpet into her dustpan. Her pale skin was splotched in dirt, and her long gown was clearly being a nuisance to her. It was, however, quite hilarious to watch her little ass squirm about, attempting to clean the endless refuse he'd piled over the years. She obviously wasn't aware of the fact that he could flick his wrist and make the whole place spotless in an instant. Of course, he was having too much fun watching her struggle to tell her any different.

Lydia stood, nearly tripping on the long fabric of her gown and spilling the contents of her dustpan before she emptied it in a nearby trash can.

"Havin' trouble there, Deetz?" he smirked, watching her turn and glare at him. Damn, she was hot when she was agitated. "How 'bout I give you somethin' a bit more comfortable to work in?"

"That would be nice..." Lydia seemed to like the idea. "I wish I'd died in something more comfortable - like a pair of jogging pants or something."

Smirking deviously, Beetle pointed a finger at her like a gun and pulled the "trigger", watching her gown turn into a sexy French maid outfit. She looked down in horror.

"That's what I'm talkin' bout..." he growled suggestively, watching her glare daggers at him.

"That wasn't what I meant, you asshole. Now, please, change me into something decent." she stated coldly, clearly not amused.

"Nah, I like ya better that way..." he continued, loving every moment of her discomfort.

"Look, I just want to clean this stupid house! I'm tired of seeing nasty crap everywhere I turn! Now, put me in something that doesn't have my ass hanging out!" she fumed, losing her cool. Man, she was even hotter when she was full out pissed!

"Okay, okay. No need to get your frilly little french panties in a knot." he muttered, changing her into some jeans and a shirt.

She paused a moment, studying her new attire, before nodding in approval. "Whew...That's better. Now quit pestering me and let me get this place livable."

"How 'bout I do us both a favor..." he smirked, as the place instantly cleaned itself in a matter of minutes. Lydia simply stared in awe of her shiny, clean new surroundings before shooting him a sharp glare.

"You mean you could do that the whole time? You watched me clean for half a day!" Lydia huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

"Couldn't resist, Babe." he grinned widely, content with himself for making her day a bit more frustrating.

"Yeah, well, atleast it's clean. Besides, I guess I deserved it, considering you're still a bachelor..." she chuckled good-naturedly, shaking her head. That was unexpected.

How was he supposed to make her life a living hell if she kept being nice all the time? How was he supposed to ditch her if she kept making him (ugh...) enjoy her company? This whole attachment thing was getting out of hand, and he fuckin' despised it. He needed to shake her, and fast. What he needed was to get back to his roots - show her what a disgusting pig he really could be. Then she wouldn't want to be so nice. It was the only way he could stop this dumb shit behavior and get out.

Suddenly, a malicious grin spread across his moss-encrusted lips. "Heya, Babe," he called, grabbing Lydia's attention. "I'm takin' you out tonight."

* * *

"Do I really have to wear this?" Lydia grimaced, looking at the tacky leopard spotted party dress she'd been placed in, complete with bright red four inch stihlettos. She could barely walk in those hideous shoes.

"Rule number three, Babe. Gotta do what I say. We made a deal." Beetle threw an arm around her shoulder, nearly causing her to lose her balance. Lydia looked to him in disbelief. He was wearing a ratty old tuxedo, with an apparent attempt to slick his wild hair back (which was failing miserably).

"Fine..." Lydia sighed. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Beetle grinned, squeezing her tightly.

Before she realized what had happened, she opened her eyes, seeing a large building with the words, "The Bloody Mary" blinking on the front of it. She should've known.

"Another bar?" she looked to Beetlejuice, giving him a look that showed clear irritation.

He pulled his arm away, clearly seeming offended. "Not just any bar, Babe. This is the hottest nightclub in the Neitherworld. I've got more ass here than all the other places combined!" he snorted proudly, straightening his tux.

"Good to know..." Lydia mumbled, as Beetle grabbed her by the arm, leading her through the crowd of various ghouls. As they passed through, Lydia could hear the women making comments as they walked by.

 _"Oh, God. Not him again."_

 _"You won't believe what that asshole tried with me last time.."_

 _"He asked me and when I wouldn't he asked if my mom would!"_

 _"Prick..."_

Hearing the mutterings of various women, Lydia glanced at Beetle, who acted blissfully unaware of their less than flattering commentary of him. He then stepped up to the bouncer, who was a large, muscle-bound fellow with treadmarks etched across his chest.

"You again? Didn't we throw you out the last three times you've been here?" the bouncer asked, his lip curled up in an unsatisfactory snarl.

"Uh...Nope, think ya got the wrong guy. Probably looks like me or somethin'." Beetle shrugged, acting casual.

The bouncer was clearly not falling for it. "Sure, buddy. Now get out of here."

"Okay, okay! It was me, and let me just say, that those women asked for it, ya know what I mean? A broad with her tits and ass hangin' out is just dyin' to get one of 'em squeezed. I was just givin' em what they really wanted." he explained, seeming desperate to get in.

"Nice try. Now get." the bouncer replied, not budging.

"ALRIGHT! HERE!" Beetle fumed, slapping a wad of money into his hand.

The bouncer smirked. "Right this way, sir." he gestured, as Beetle and Lydia walked in.

Lydia scanned the club, noting just how humongous it was. The ceiling was impossibly high, with strobe lights and smoke everywhere. Strange electronica music blasted throughout the place, with various drunken and horny occupants bumping and grinding on each other. Lydia scowled, not really wanting to be in such a place.

"C'mon, Babe. Lemme buy ya a drink." Beetle linked his grimy arm in hers once more, dragging her to the bar.

The barkeep, a man with a screwdriver lodged into his temple, simply gave Beetle one look before rolling his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Gimme the strongest thing ya got." he demanded, slamming his hand on the counter before turning to Lydia. "Whaddya want, Dollface?"

"Uh..." Lydia barely had a second to choose, when Beetlejuice interrupted.

"Make that _two_ of the strongest thing ya got!" he declared, turning and giving Lydia a predatory glare.

"Looking to get thrown out a fourth time, are we?" the barkeep smarted off, before returning with two large bottles with skulls on the front of them. "Very well, then." he scoffed before turning to Lydia. "You couldn't possibly be with him by choice. What'd he do, trick you?"

Before Lydia could reply, Beetle glared at the barkeep. "Mind yer own damn business..." he growled. Lydia nearly smirked, thinking of how true that statement was on so many levels. Beetle turned to Lydia, grinning proudly. "So, whaddya think about the place?"

"Its...uh...certainly loud, and really full of drunk people, I guess." she shrugged.

"I know. It's beautiful, ain't it?" he beamed, throwing back his drink and guzzling it hard.

"So, did you really grab all those women's asses?" Lydia sniggered, taking a sip of the powerful liquor, which burned like fire, causing her to cough and sputter.

"Yeah, well they were givin' me all the signals." Beetle muttered, placing the blame off of himself as usual.

"Like what, breathing and making eye contact?" Lydia chuckled, instantly feeling loosened up by the insane amount of alchohol in her drink.

"Aren't you a little comedian?" Beetle sneered, while Lydia suddenly realized that he hadn't really treated her that way. Sure, he'd make an occasional remark or do something suggestive to irritate her (he _was_ Beetlejuice after all), but he didn't ever do enough to get himself slapped. Then she couldn't help but wonder why. He really was a mystery.

"Is this your favorite place?" Lydia asked honestly, still finding herself wondering about the poltergeist who'd almost forced her into marriage. She couldn't help but think that there was something more to him than his awful personality revealed. Truthfully, under his crass behavior, which seemed feigned in the first place, she really didn't find him to be so bad. Of course, everyone else in the Neitherworld seemed to hate him, but maybe they were just falling for his tricks.

"Eh...One of 'em, I guess..." he muttered, not very enthusiastically, while lighting another smoke. Geeze, he smoked a lot. "Passes the time." he stated, as Lydia sensed a bit of boredom and possibly some other peculiar emotion she wasn't quite sure of.

"You know, Eugene used to take me to nightclubs a lot when we were dating. They were more his thing, I guess." Lydia admitted, remembering how she never seemed to fit into his lifestyle.

Beetle looked to her, surprised. "Eugene? That was that shithead's name that left you standin' at the altar? What kind of fuckin' name is that?" he spat, looking none too happy about hearing of her possibly ex-fiance.

"Yeah, Eugene Havard. At least the last name wasn't so bad. I thought Lydia Havard had a nice ring to it, at the time..." she admitted.

"Yeah, well I like Deetz a hell of a lot better." he glared off in the distance, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Of course you would. You wanted to find me and get out again." she laughed, feeling the booze getting to her. "What would I be then? Lydia Juice? Haha..." she chuckled, amused by her own tipsy thoughts and not considering at all who she was talking to.

"Oh, it's funny now, is it?" Beetle smiled deviously. "It wasn't so funny when I was locked up in fuckin' solitary confinement for four years for makin' a deal with the living..." he growled, finishing his drink before standing up from his barstool. "I'll be back..." he grumbled, heading off to the dance floor and leaving her alone.

Lydia instantly felt like a scolded puppy, hunkering over her delightfully intoxicating drink. She was making such progress, too, and now she'd slipped up and pissed him off again. He'd probably never let her go now. "Ugh..." she placed her face in her palms, leaning on the counter.

"What the hell are you doin' with him?" the barkeep leaned in, raising an eyebrow. "I know he didn't just get a pretty thing like you out of nowhere."

"Um...I actually owe him. I kind of broke a really big promise, and I'm pretty much indebted to him until he decides I've made up for it." Lydia moaned, taking another drink.

"So, you two aren't together?" the barkeep inquired, smirking.

"Oh, _god_ no..." Lydia winced, watching Beetle hit on some unfortunate woman from across the room.

"Heh...Well, he sure seems to think so." the man chuckled, making Lydia become confused.

"Why would you say that?! He's trying to pick up women right now!" she gestured to Beetle, who was currently getting slapped across the face on the other side of the room.

"Don't let him fool you, honey. He never takes a woman out anywhere - deal or not." the barkeep said slyly before walking away to tend to his other inebriated patrons.

Lydia sat, dumbfounded, watching Beetle carry on across the room. She giggled when he invited himself to sit between three young ladies, only for them to get up and promptly walk away. Was it true what the barkeep was telling her, or did he simply misread the poltergeist? Was that why Beetlejuice had been acting so strange? Then again, he always acted strangely, so there was no clear answer for her. Is that why he'd come to "pay her back" when he thought she was still alive?

He was still an unbearable ass, but it was clear to her that he didn't treat Lydia the same way he treated others. Maybe it was all because of their deal. Maybe not. Why was she even thinking about that in the first place? Lydia shook her head, ridding herself of those strange, putrid thoughts.

* * *

"Hey there, beautiful..." Beetlejuice slid closer to a woman with her eyebrows burned off and her hair standing on end as if she'd been electrocuted. "What's a pretty thing like you doin' in a place like this?"

The woman grinned, sparks of electricity shooting through her hair. Beetle eased on over, putting an arm around her, as static from her body caused his poorly fixed hair to stand on end again. "Let the ole' B-man buy you a round, eh?" he asked, as the woman shyly nodded.

This was gonna be good, Beetle thought. That'll teach Deetz to shit all over his misfortune. She'd see that he was capable of getting women, and that she wasn't the end-all, be-all to his happiness. A little jealousy might put her in her place, he mused. Besides, he might get a little unpaid ass in the deal, and that was a plus in and of itself.

* * *

Finishing her large bottle of mind-numbing alchohol, Lydia was beginning to feel really good right about now. The music, the strobe lights, the drunken idiots dancing and making out and puking everywhere - it all seemed so _magical_ all of a sudden.

She spun about on her barstool, scanning around the club. Was Beetle still there, or did he finally say fuck it and leave with someone? That would be all fine and dandy, except for the fact that she had no idea how to get back to his place. He'd find her soon enough, she reasoned. He wouldn't let her back out of a deal this time.

Feeling pretty lively, Lydia stood up on wobbly stilhettos, prancing about the bar to find him - or anybody to possibly dance with. Might as well, she figured. She was stuck there, after all.

She heard someone whistle at her from behind, turning to see a man about her age with a gash in his skull. Other than that, he was pretty cute.

"Hey there. You wanna drink?" he asked, smiling charmingly.

"Uh...sure, that sounds fun." Lydia nodded, grinning, partly because she felt completely shit-faced. Why not? Beetle was having his fun somewhere.

* * *

Beetle grimaced, rubbing his lips after he'd laid a big one on the electric chick. This broad had to be the single, most terrible choice of women to make out with in the whole club. Everytime he tried to make out with her, he ended up feeling like he was french kissing a fuckin' cattle prod. Sex with her was probably a terrible, horrible freakin' idea. He didn't want his dick turning into a char-broiled kielbasa in there.

"What's wrong?" the woman pouted, sparks flying everywhere.

"Uh...It's not me, it's you!" Beetle blurted out, jumping up off the lounge sofa and disappearing into the crowd.

Well, that freakin' sucked. At least ole' Deetz probably got an eye-full. Maybe he would make _her_ feel like shit now. If not, hookers were always plentiful enough.

"What the..." Beetle stopped, seeing Lydia schmoozing it up with some young punk at the bar. They were laughing and having a good time. It was enough to make him puke, actually.

"I see how it is...Two can play at that game, Lyds..." he spat, looking into the darkest recesses of the club, where the "paid help" usually lurked, waiting for their customers.

* * *

"You're gorgeous. I can't believe no one asked you for a drink yet." the young man smiled, in what Lydia felt was an attempt to butter her up for sex later. That's all these places were about, really. Eugene really should've never took her out in nightclubs when she was alive. Sometimes he'd disappear like Beetlejuice did, and she would worry and feel deeply insecure. He was a DJ, after all, while she was just a boring editor for the local newspaper. Nothing exciting or thrilling there. No wonder it didn't really work out. However, she'd expected it from Beetlejuice, and she wasn't actually with him as anything other than a personal slave, so it didn't have quite the same effect.

"Well, believe it..." she muttered, now feeling a bit low due to her upsetting memories.

"Say, uh...Who was that crazy guy with you earlier? Is he your boyfriend, cause I've heard some crazy stuff about him. I wouldn't want to piss him off or anything." the young man spoke nervously.

"No, why?" Lydia asked, frowning.

"Because he's heading this way, and he looks really pissed..." the man stood from his seat, backing away.

Lydia felt a cold hand grab her arm, spinning her around on her barstool. She met with wild, green eyes and Beetle's evil grin. "What're ya doin' there, Deetz?"

"Oh, uh, this is...uh..." she pointed to the young man, realizing she didn't know his name.

"Randy." he spoke nervously, still backing away from her.

"Yeah, this is Randy. We were just talking and..."

"Just _talkin'_ , huh?" Beetle growled. "C'mon, it's time to go, Deetz. I got a hot date wantin' to come back to my place an' I ain't gonna keep her waitin', if ya get mah drift."

"But, I was having a good time!" Lydia pouted, against her better judgment. Hell, everything she did was against her better judgment at this point. She was wasted.

"Now, Deetz!" he demanded, pulling her up. She realized she could barely stand by this point, since she'd added more alchohol to her bloodstream. She nearly fell into Beetle, who had to grab her around the waist to keep her on her feet.

Beetlejuice looked to the young man. "Scram, kid..." he growled. Randy nodded eagerly, scurrying out of sight.

Lydia had to hold on to Beetle to keep upright. "Woah, Babe. You're more shitfaced than _I_ am." he remarked, appearing shocked.

"You're wasted, too?" Lydia slurred.

"I'm always wasted, Deetz!" he growled, trying to keep her from falling. "Now come on, there's a hot chick out here and she's comin' home with us, so just be quiet and stay outta my way, okay?"

"Okay..." Lydia agreed, feeling the need to sleep immediately. Next time, she'd have to lay off the booze. Beetlejuice was a terrible, terrible influence, she concluded.

* * *

Lydia was already sprawled across the sofa, when Beetle and his "lucky lady" came back into view. Of course, even in Lydia's immensely drunken state, she could easily tell that was no lady. The woman had more of a five o' clock shadow than Beetlejuice, and that was saying something. Apparently, he was as drunk as her, and way more stupid in general.

"Darling, you think you're little friend is going to be okay?" the obviously male hooker asked, pointing to Lydia.

"Eh, she'll be fine. She's had way too much to drink, and believe me, that chick is a featherweight, so it didn't take much." Beetle rambled on. "You, uh...wanna finish up in my room?"

"Haha! You think you can handle it, sugar?" the male prostitute purred, rubbing his big, calloused, manly hand over Beetle's cheek, causing Lydia to snigger. _Oh boy_ , _was he in for a surprise_ , she thought. Of course, unless he was into that kind of thing, which was no big deal. However, he'd be horrified if he wasn't, and that would be hilarious. Lydia couldn't help but hope for the latter situation to be true.

After the exchange of a few more lewd comments, the two had slipped into his bedroom, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She couldn't help but be reminded of the times when Eugene would be a little too touchy or flirty with the other women in the club. He was a bit of a local celebrity, so he had a few groupies, who would cling to him, and he'd occasionally let them.

She remembered being much happier when she first met Eugene, as he was charming and charasmatic, and made her feel excited and alive. All that changed when he continued his flirty, womanizing ways. She realized just how much he'd worn her down. She didn't like herself before she'd died. She didn't even recognize herself anymore. She'd become so clingy, worried, and dependent on him for her happiness. And Beetlejuice was right, she was mildly stalking him before she'd been hit by that car. He didn't want her, and that hurt. She even realized he may have been using her just for the free advertising spot she'd given him on her newspaper. His business had doubled after they'd gotten together.

To boot it all, she died looking for his skeezy ass! She felt so helpless now, and so very alone. Now she was stuck with Beetlejuice, and she didn't know when she'd feel good about herself again. Trying to hold it in any longer did no good. Hot tears began to pour from her eyes, as she wept, partly from the booze, but mostly from the pain. She had no one to lean on, either. Barbara, Adam, and Charles were unreachable, and she'd even cry on Delia's shoulder if she could right now.

Unfortunately, her sadness ruined the moment she'd been anticipating, as a terrified yell came from the back of the roadhouse, followed by the crossdresser walking out with money in his hand and a smug grin on his bright red lips.

"Sweetheart, I can't get back out the door. It's chained shut again." the man called sweetly, as Beetle came scurrying in, throwing his hands up and breaking the chains. "You sure you don't want me to do anything for you, honey?" the prostitute asked, seductively.

"Er...uh...nah, that's okay..." Beetle stumbled over his words, clearly terrified. "Just, uh...changed muh mind. Not feelin' so great ya know. Probably drunk too much booze to uh...get it up..."

"Okay, sugar. Call me." he said suggestively in his deep baritone voice, before leaving.

"Whew, that was close..." Beetle sighed with relief, watching the door close and instantly chaining it back before wiping the sweat from his crusty brow.

It would have been insanely hilarious, had Lydia not felt like garbage. She quickly wiped the fresh tears from her cheeks, hoping to hide her condition from the one ghost who'd surely exploit it in some way.

However, Lydia hadn't been quick enough in her plight, and Beetle caught a glimpse of what she was doing. Lydia turned her head away, hoping against hope not to hear his grating voice start cackling or taunting her.

"Uh...You okay there, Deetz?" he asked, surprisingly, without any hint of malice.

She sniffled, looking shamefully pitiful. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just had too much to drink."

"Hey, uh...He didn't mean nothin' to me. Promise." Beetle grinned sheepishly, attempting to make her laugh, and it did work.

"Oh no, it wasn't that. I was just feeling all bad and cruddy about Eugene. I'll feel better tomorrow." Lydia reassured him, hoping he wouldn't get all angry again.

"I told you he ain't worth your time, Babe. The guy was an asshole. You're better off without him and his dweeby name." he scolded, before his features softened uncharacteristically.

"Yeah, I'm beginning to see that now." Lydia agreed, wiping the remaining tears away.

Beetle's eyes narrowed. "What was his last name again, Babe?"

"Havard..." Lydia replied, watching Beetle rub his chin and smirk, before looking back to her. "Uh...You seem like you need a good night's sleep. You can take the bed, Deetz." he suggested, causing Lydia to feel a little better.

"Thanks, BJ..." she said, attempting to stand and nearly falling to the floor in the process. "Uh...Could you help me?"

"Yeah, sure..." he muttered, holding her up.

* * *

Beetlejuice took one last look at Lydia Deetz, forced roommate, passed out in that ridiculous outfit he knew she'd hate. He grunted, pointing his finger at her and turning it into a comfortable pair of black and white striped pajamas.

He'd previously meant to evoke jealousy and rage in the young woman, only to trap himself in his bedroom with a tranny. Apparently, it wouldn't have mattered anyway, considering Deetz was already depressed about the _other_ shithead she almost married. Good ole' Eugene Havard - he'd have to remember that name for later use.

Truthfully, Beetle shouldn't have cared about Deetz or any of her shit, but he did, and much to his distaste. And that damned feeling came out again when she joked about being his wife. Maybe she didn't mean to piss him off, but she did. Even more so, when she was getting all friendly with that young punk. Just where did Deetz get off making light of her fucking him over! Would it really have been that disgusting to be his wife? Well, maybe, but he wasn't that awful. He was just a bored, pissed off guy who wanted out of a place where nobody gave a shit about him.

Among those who probably didn't give a shit, was Lydia Deetz. Why did he even think about keeping her around in the first place? It was clear she was miserable, and for once, that fact wasn't bringing him sheer uninhibited joy. Just seeing her so sad and miserable, well, was just depressing in his book.

The poor dame got a shit deal in life, and in death, thanks to Beetle himself. If it wasn't for his trickery while she was just a girl, she would have never made a deal she didn't want to keep, and she would have had a much better afterlife. Damn that feeling. What was it? Guilt? Well, he sure as hell didn't like it.

Maybe it was time to let her do what she'd promised, so she could get far away from him like she probably wanted to.

Beetlejuice sighed, sulking through the house. No wonder he didn't like feelings. Those things were a real bitch.


	10. Friendship

Chapter 10: Friendship

Beetle quietly stepped up to his bedroom door, knocking softly on the old, shackled wood. "Heya...Lyds? You alright in there?"

There was nothing but silence coming from the other side. Maybe she was still passed out? Maybe he'd just slide on in and see...

Beetle opened the door, seeing Lydia face down, snoring. He sniggered, seeing how hopelessly wasted she looked. It was kinda cute, really.

She was so peaceful that he almost didn't want to wake her. Almost. "DEETZ, RISE AND SHINE!" he belted, causing Lydia to thrash about like mad, tossing his blankets off of her in surprise.

"Oh! BJ, it's just you..." she gasped, holding her head.

"The one and only," he grinned, holding out his hands.

"I think I drank way too much last night..." Lydia rubbed her aching head.

"I know ya did, Babe. How 'bout some breakfast? Might help that pesky hangover." he suggested, knowing that would give him a ripe opportunity to tell her his plans.

"Sure. Thanks BJ." she smiled sweetly, slightly wincing from the headache.

Damn, she was cute. Too bad she'd probably be gone soon and all.

* * *

Lydia stared down at her plate of freshly scrambled eggs and crispy bacon with toast, smiling to herself. Unbeknownst to Beetlejuice, it reminded her of breakfasts she'd had back in Winter Rivers with Barbara and Adam. It was nice.

"Uh...Don'tcha like it, Deetz?" Beetle furrowed his brow, pointing to her dish with his rusty fork.

"It's perfect..." she cooed, remembering the comforts of home that she'd sorely missed. Hopefully one day she'd find out the true nature of her death, so she could regain her powers and visit her parents and the Maitlands again. "It reminds me of home." she said, before digging in.

"So uh...How are ole' Babs and Adam these days? How bout Chucky and his broad - you know, the one that takes nice things like cement slabs and rocks and turns 'em into garbage?"

"That would be Delia." Lydia smirked, realizing he must have felt the same way about Delia's art as Lydia had. "Honestly, I don't know anymore. They were all doing well when I was alive, but now that I'm restricted and all, I have no idea. I kind of miss them all..."

"That sucks, Deetz. Er...I got some possibly good news for ya, if that helps any." he muttered, looking strangely sober.

"Is it that I can keep these awesome pj's? Thanks, by the way." Lydia mumbled with a mouth full of eggs.

"Yeah, they're yours. I got plenty more where those came from. But the news ain't that, Dollface..." he continued, still strangely serious. "I'm gonna need your help persuadin' ole' Jerrycurl to summon me. You up for that?"

Lydia didn't know what she'd done, but it must've been something right in order to get Beetle to actually move forward with their agreement. Suddenly, her heart lifted just a bit. Maybe she'd get out of this place sooner than she'd anticipated. Then, she could continue the search for her ex fiance. He could fill her in on her death, and poof, she'd have power again.

"Definitely. What's the plan?" she eagerly listened.

"Simple, I get you to chubby boy's apartment and you just talk to him. Convince him to summon me, and then the rest is history." Beetle grinned, apparently feeling quite satisfied with his little plan.

"Okay, but how do I get back? I have no powers." Lydia questioned.

"I'll pull ya back in after...say...twenty minutes, eh? Tell him how wonderful and great I am! Tell him any ole' bullshit story you can, I could literally care less. Just get me in, Babe."

Lydia suddenly felt a little uneasy about the whole thing. Lie to the poor man? Beetlejuice was nothing but trouble, and the man would be better off without him around, really. On the other hand, Beetle was really good at scaring away people, so that was a plus. She'd just have to stick with that angle, she supposed.

"So...When do we start?" she asked warily.

"You finished your food?" Beetle asked, tapping his grimy fingers on the table.

"Yeah..." Lydia replied.

"Good! Now!" he stood up pointing his finger at Lydia, who's pajama's turned into a really nice sweater and skirt. Her hair had been neatly fixed in a long, flowing ponytail down her back. She looked rather dolled up, but in a modest, ladylike fashion. She didn't even realize Beetlejuice was capable of pulling that off. He was smarter than she'd given him credit for.

"Okay, Babe. Now let me tell ya the details..." Beetle grinned maliciously, rubbing his hands together.

* * *

"So, twenty minutes, right?" Lydia asked, reassuring herself that she wouldn't be trapped in some strange ghost's apartment forever.

"Yup. You ready?" Beetle raised an eyebrow.

"As I'll ever be..." Lydia muttered.

"Good. Dweeby will be in that back study room hangin' out knitting doilies or somethin'. Now, go talk to him!" Beetle demanded, and before Lydia could so much as open her mouth, he'd juiced her into Gerald's apartment.

Unfortunately, it resembled Beetle's place before he'd cleaned it. Lydia stepped over undergarments, beer cans, and the occasional bong in her search for the study. Man, these girls partied hard. Definitely Beetle's type. Maybe he'd be better off with one of them then he ever would have with her, she pondered.

The day was early, so the two girls causing all the mayhem were likely passed out, much like Lydia had been. Damn, Beetlejuice was a bad influence, she reminded herself.

The faint sound of classical music played hauntingly toward the back of Gerald's apartment, instantly alerting her to his presence. She quietly sauntered up to the door of his study, which was currently closed. Swallowing back her uneasiness, she knocked quietly.

The music instantly stopped, alerting her that Gerald was, indeed, inside. Perhaps he thought she was one of those college girls, and wanted to be inconspicuous.

"Gerald Lunder? Are you in there?" Lydia asked politely, but to no avail. He was probably trying to remain undetected.

"My name is Lydia Deetz, and I'm also deceased. I've come in the name of my friend, Mr. Juice, who's services you are in dire need of."

After that, the door slowly creaked open a couple of inches, and a portly, middle-aged man wearing glasses and a plaid shirt stood warily on the other side. "You know that madman? You certainly don't seem like his type..."

"Is it alright if I come in? I'd like to speak with you, if you don't mind." she continued, trying to do damage control in the form of appearing as curteous and professional as possible. It was the only way to possibly undo Beetle's stupid way of provoking others to do as he wished.

The man looked about himself warily, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. "He's not here is he?"

"No, it's just me. He's in the afterlife waiting for a reply." Lydia continued.

"Very well, then. As long as he's not here..." Gerald muttered, allowing her into his study. She scanned the the various bookshelves filled to the brim with books of all sorts, many of which were mystery novels or very old works of literature. His walls were lined with fine paintings, and an old record player sat at the ready. It had a pristine vinyl containing the works of Mozart on it, which was where the melodic sound was coming from. Gerald seemed to be a very deep fellow, with a love for the finer things in life - the arts, literature, music, and the like.

"I love your study. It's so refined..." Lydia said, admiring her surroundings. Poor fellow - only wanting his peace and quiet, but having to deal with not only the likes of drunk college chicks, but Beetlejuice himself.

"Oh, thank you. Yes, that crazy fellow you call a friend came to me in the strangest ways. He's very rude and off-putting. He says he can rid my appartment of those noisy girls with his 'bio-exorcism' services, but I'm afraid he'd be even worse than they are. Since you are his representative, tell me the truth. Is he going to actually help me?" Gerald seated himself, clasping his hands together nervously. The poor guy seemed to be a nervous wreck altogether.

Now Lydia stood at a crossroad. Would she completely lie, or tell the truth? In truth, Lydia believed Beetle could help this man, but it wouldn't be neat, it would be messy and there would be strings attatched.

"Look, it's not like I hate the fellow. I just really need those girls gone. I'm so miserable in my own home, and the handbook said I couldn't leave. I'm bound here for another fifty years, and I don't know how long I can take the noise, or how long they'll be here to ruin my life...I just really need this to go away. Can you, by any chance, scare them away, Ms. Deetz? You seem much nicer than that other fellow, anyway. You'd probably be much easier to deal with."

"I'm sorry, I really have restricted powers. Even if I had powers, they would be no match for his. He really is the ghost with the most, I'm afraid. He's a poltergeist, far more powerful than anyone I've seen on the other side so far. If anyone can get rid of them for you, he can." Lydia explained, choosing to be as honest as possible. She would tell Gerald the good, but she'd let him know the repercussions as well. She often wished she had someone to advise her before using Beetle's services herself.

"Well, maybe I should go ahead and try it, then. I am quite desperate." Gerald muttered to himself. Oh no, that was the same desperation Lydia once had. She still needed to warn him, or she'd never forgive herself if things went awry. She hadn't cleared her conscience just to sully it up again.

"Before you do, I think you must know that he intends to not only scare away the two girls, but to marry one so that he can cross over to the other side again. He'll be able to live again somehow. I'm not really sure how all that works, but he tried it on me once, and it's a long story, but it didn't happen..." Lydia rambled on, now panicking because she hoped this wouldn't stop the deal.

"She really won't be affected by the marriage, to my knowledge. He can just get it on paper and go about his way. He intends to scare the girls so badly that there will be an extra stigma attatched to this property and no one will want to live here again. Beetle does have his motives, but overall, he will solve your problem. He helped me, after all. He kept his end of the bargain. He will help you, too." Lydia persuaded, hoping Gerald would give in, even with knowing that Beetle had his own strings attached.

"These girls won't be physically harmed will they?" Gerald asked, looking worried.

"No. He's just going to scare them. That's all." Lydia declared, hoping that Beetle would stick to that and do nothing more.

"Alright then. It looks like I have no other choice, really. I'm kind of stuck in a rut, if you know what I mean. No way out." Gerald looked to Lydia.

"I know exactly what you mean, Gerald. Oh, he told me to tell you to contact him the next time those girls throw a massive party. He said he needs to scope the place out first, so he'll be invisible to the crowd. He just needs to concoct a plan, and then the second time around, he'll get into action. Is that okay with you?" Lydia asked.

Gerald nodded hesitantly. "Yes, Ms. Deetz. I'll give it a try, at least."

"Thanks." Lydia smiled, before vanishing into thin air and arriving in front of an angry looking poltergeist.

* * *

"What the fuck was all that, Deetz? You weren't supposed to tell him all the bad shit!" Beetle fumed.

"Look, I had to. It still worked. He said he would summon you." Lydia replied, defensively. She then realized something. "Hey, you were spying on me!"

"Had to. You can't be trusted, Deetz. I give you one simple little task and you fuck it up!" he snapped, causing the lights to dim again. Oh no, not another tantrum.

"Why is it so bad that he knows your other motives? It doesn't affect him..." Lydia retorted, standing her ground.

"He said yes now, but he may say no once his fuckin' wheels start turnin' and he sees that I'm bein' a slimeball! He'll start to worry about what I'm doin' marryin' a breather, and he'll probably get all sappy and do-goody, like you do!" Beetle rambled on, seething.

"Look, I don't know what the problem is, BJ! You're getting what you want out of this! You'll get to marry some hot party chick, and you'll get out! Then I'll go my merry way and try to figure out just how to break this stupid curse or whatever put these restrictions on me. Then you don't have to look at me anymore!" Lydia spouted off, feeling her own temper begin to rise. Nothing ever seemed good enough for him, and that was making her livid. "Look, I get it. You want me to suffer, because I messed your chance up. Well, now I'm helping you like you wanted. I can't help it if I want to have a clear conscience in all of this. I wanted him to know what he was getting into. I sure as hell didn't! Besides, you'd be much better off with one of those girls. You'll be happy and not so damned moody and unpredictable all the time..."

Beetle glared at her, silently holding back his rage. "If you lose my chance again, Deetz..."

"Then what?! I don't care what you do, you asshole! My afterlife can't get any worse...I don't even know how I died, and I can't contact anyone. I'm freakin' alone with _you_ of all people, and all you want to do is make me miserable. God, BJ, I didn't know you hated me that much..." Lydia finally blew her top, now sitting at his kitchen table, waiting to be chained up to the chair or rushed by a horde of insects again.

Beetle paused, furrowing his brow. "Who said this was about hate, Deetz? It's about a deal, and you'd better keep your end of the bargain this time. If this doesn't work, you'll be forced to help me until I'm successful, and I know you don't want that, Dollface."

"Just face it, you want to get my help, and then you want rid of me. I'll gladly oblige. I know you can't stand me, BJ! That's what all this is about! You just want to play all these stupid mind games with me so you'll be satisfied when you've finally driven me crazy! Then you'll get out and leave me stranded, so I can feel like you did! I'll never feel bad enough for you! I'll never do enough to please you in our little deal! UGH, THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING!" she yelled, completely flying off the handle.

"I told you, Deetz. This ain't about hate. I don't...hate you..." Beetle moaned, seeming pained by having to say those words. "It's just all complicated and shit, and I'm not gonna talk about those shitty topics right now cause they suck. But, no. I don't hate you. You said we were friends, right? That's what you told ole' Jerryroll. Is that true, Deetz?" Beetle raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Well, I kinda thought we were getting there..." Lydia groaned, her head now on the kitchen table. Geeze, why did Beetlejuice make her so crazy?

"Yeah, I believe friends is a good term for...uh...whatever this is..." Beetle grumbled awkwardly. He then looked to Lydia, who stared hopelessly up at him from her pit of despair. "Ugh...Fine! Look, I'm just not used to all this honesty bullshit you do. It kinda freaks me out. You're just...so damn different, Lyds. I don't know what the hell to think. You probably didn't do anything wrong..." he muttered, folding his arms and seeming completely agitated by his own admittance.

Lydia grinned, feeling suddenly better that he didn't just hate her guts. How or why she even cared was still a mystery, but she did feel in better spirits - probably a step further down the spiral of insanity, she figured. "So you don't hate me?"

"No, I already said I didn't..." Beetle growled. "How many times do I gotta' say it?!"

"So, does that mean you like me?" Lydia asked him, suddenly feeling amused by his unexpected behavior. He really didn't like admitting feelings, and that was pretty funny under the right circumstances.

"FUCK! Fine... Feel better now? God, what is up with you?" Beetlejuiced huffed, grabbing a beer bottle from thin air and storming away from her.

"I think that's a 'yes', BJ!" she yelled, snorting and chuckling, unable to hold back. Maybe she _did_ have a friend after all - a friend that would be quite fun to torment when the time was right. It was starting to make sense now. Beetlejuice wasn't getting angry all because of her (well maybe a little, since she told the truth to Gerald), he was getting angry because he wasn't used to someone being nice to him for a change. This changed everything. Lydia Deetz now knew the big bad poltergeist's weakness. She could get pretty used to this.


	11. Questions, Questions

Chapter 11: Questions, Questions

Lydia groaned, surfing through the mind-numbing, completely insufferable selection of channels on Beetle's TV. Unfortunately, Beetle's reluctant admittance of a certain fondness for her had sent him grumbling straight out his front door without her. Even more to her dismay, was that the laughably huge locks that kept her imprisoned hadn't budged from their stance on his front door, due to the fact that they had momentarily retracted only for the poltergeist himself.

Hours had passed and dusk had fallen upon the Neitherworld, leaving Lydia alone and feeling completely stir crazy. _At least the house was clean_ , she thought, trying to look on the bright side of an otherwise dismal situation. Another potential positive was that he didn't hate her, or things may have been far, far worse for her.

After looking at what had to be the thousandth pair of boobs that had flashed across his television, Lydia winced in disgust, turning it off and tossing the remote on the couch. Sure, he was vulgar and remarkably ill-mannered, but Beetlejuice really wasn't all _that_ bad. Lydia wandered about the roadhouse, studying his living space as she toured its rooms and hallways.

As terribly as she hated to admit it, she began to feel even more curious about the mysterious poltergeist. The more she pondered on his strange personality and antics, the more she began to question things about him...and _herself_. Beetle may have viewed her as a comrade in some way, but why was getting his on his good side such a confusing experience? Obviously, as she'd come to realize, he wasn't comfortable with her ability to be amicable. That definitely explained the outbursts, but it didn't explain why he was so uncomfortable in the first place. She also found herself pondering over why he wanted out so badly. That was a question he had simply refused to answer.

She wandered into his bedroom, her eyes tracing over the area. With the exception of his bed, not much else could be noted about the furniture (or lack thereof) within the room. Only a small endtable with a crooked lamp sat beside it, and Lydia then realized that she had never snooped inside of its drawers, mostly because before she couldn't have cared less about it. However, she felt particularly nosey at the moment, and so she quietly slid the top drawer open.

After discovering an abundance of nudie magazines, a half-used bottle of lotion, and a wrinkled up pair of panties, Lydia gasped, quickly slamming the offending drawer shut. _God, he was gross_.

 _Surely there was more to him than that,_ she thought, swallowing back her disgust and eyeing the bottom drawer.

Already wincing, as if bracing herself for something even more scarring to be inside, Lydia gingerly pulled the second drawer open. She sighed, relieved that it was mostly filled with junk that didn't have anything to do with sex. Lydia dug through its contents, the vast majority of them being old newspaper clippings of obituaries. They were most likely of people he'd tried to convince to use his services, no doubt.

Recognizing the name "Maitland" on one of the clippings, Lydia picked up the obituary of her ghostly guardians, noting that Beetle had scribbled large "X's" over their eyes. Lydia smirked. Hopefully his resentment for them had died down a bit over the years.

Continuing to sift through his junk drawer, her index finger grazed a circular, smooth object. Her eyes widened, as she grasped the object, pulling it out.

"...He still has it?" Lydia mumbled to herself, eyeing the tarnished old ring she remembered from her past. Hadn't she thrown that down the large, gaping hole that the Sandworm had created? Did he find it somehow?

She held the ring in her hand, feeling that familiar twinge of guilt well up inside of her. Now that she was personally familiar with the afterlife, Lydia had learned early on that Sandworms were no laughing matter. The memory of Beetle being swallowed up by that monster seemed even worse now. Lydia then considered herself lucky not to have seen Beetle's full wrath. He certainly could have destroyed her at any point. Of course, he hadn't. He wasn't nearly as cruel or heartless as he'd led her to believe. Somehow, deep down, Lydia could sense that there was far more to the ghost than he'd let on. If she'd ever be able to witness more than just his surface layer, she wasn't sure of, however.

A loud bang of the front door alerted Lydia that he'd returned. She quickly dropped the ring back into the drawer and closed it before leaving his room.

"BJ? Is that you?" she called, following the clammering sounds from the other side of the roadhouse.

"Yeah, yeah, Deetz...It's me...The fuck do you care?" he spat, as she entered the living room, noting that he seemed even more disheveled than usual.

 _Not another tantrum_ , she thought to herself, sighing. "Are you really doing this again?" she remarked, feeling a bit tired of his repetitive bouts of anger.

"Doin' what, Deetz?" he growled, his green eyes narrowing in on her.

"This!" she huffed, throwing out her arms, and feeling exasperated. "This whole raging thing! Don't you think it's a bit much?"

Beetle glared, crossing his arms. "Oh, _believe me_ , Toots. This ain't even close to much! I could do a lot worse, Babe."

Lydia rolled her eyes. " Yeah, I'm aware of that. I just don't know why you went storming off for no good reason! I just don't know what I said to piss you off so much..."

Suddenly, Beetlejuice seemed to be caught off guard a bit. His arms slowly dropped back to his sides. "Who said I was pissed?"

Lydia then placed a hand on her hip, shooting him a look that clearly said _you were so pissed and I know it._

Beetle just growled, clearly showing a lack of anything to say for once.

"Come on, BJ! Just admit it!" Lydia smirked, finding herself suddenly amused by his reluctance. Of course, she also found herself deeply curious as to why he was mad in the first place. She had a sneaking suspicion it was her admittance of some sort of friendship between the two of them, for some wierd reason.

"It ain't none of yer business why I'm pissed, Deetz." he grinned deviously, now wriggling his grimy fingers. "Ah' course, if you don't want to keep yer mouth shut about it, I can do it for ya."

Oh, he _really_ didn't want to talk about it, whatever it was. This only made Lydia's urges to prod him for answers multiply tenfold. She didn't quite understand why, but she found herself completely fixated on his inner-workings for some odd reason. _Okay, she was definitely insane by this point_ , she figured. She reasoned that it was very likely he'd glue her trap shut, but she'd give it a different approach, nonetheless.

"I know it's not, but...Why'd you have to leave me here alone?" she asked bluntly, evoking a surprised expression from Beetle.

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Well...It's just...It sucks being here with nothing to do all day. Where were you, anyway?" Lydia asked, her tone even surprising herself, as she sounded not unlike an angry housewife. Maybe that was a bit much, after all. Of course, she genuinely was wanting to know his whereabouts, which was a truly disturbing thing. _Yep, no_ _returning from that kind of crazy._

"Why ya wanna know?" Beetle answered with a question, sounding leary. He was _awfully_ defensive.

"Because...Maybe I wanted to go, too." Lydia pouted, waiting to see his reaction.

Beetlejuice grinned devilishly, stepping up to her. "Well, Sweetcheeks, unless you wanna go to the strip club, I suggest you shut it."

Lydia genuinely frowned, much to her personal distaste. That couldn't possibly be all he cared about! She knew better, didn't she? Why did she care again? Maybe being cooped up with the likes of Beetlejuice was taking a toll on her mental state more than she'd realized. She needed to get out, and fast. "Well...Could you take me somewhere, then?"

"Errr...wut?" Beetle stammered.

"Please? I'm feeling like a caged animal in here, BJ!" Lydia whined, hoping she could actually get out of her own personal prison for a bit.

"Ah, hell...Fine, Deetz. I'd rather take ya somewhere than listen to you bellyache all day..." he grumbled, looking none too pleased. "Where do ya wanna go?"

Lydia smiled widely, happy to hear his words. She then thought for a moment, running various ideas through her head, before answering him. "Is there a movie theatre anywhere?"

* * *

Beetle glared firmly ahead, feeling as uncomfortable as hell. Why Lydia had wanted to walk to the movies was beyond him, but just being around the woman at this point was beginning to make his fucking hair stand on end (even more than it already was). Just hearing her, touching her, or even listening to her was doing some crazy shit to his psyche right about now, and he wasn't one bit happy with it. _Feelings_ were not something he remotely wanted to think about. Extremely mushy, sappy feelings were even worse.

"Um...You okay, BJ?" Lydia asked, stepping closer to him.

Beetle stepped farther away from her, grunting. "Yeah..." Shit, why did her voice sound so... _nice?_ Why was everything about this chick so fucking awesome? Why did he need to run from her ass like she was the plague just to keep from acting like a lovesick pussy around her? He was the ghost with the most, after all. He was sleezy, crooked, and full of malice. People, both living and dead, hated his ass. Hell, he had a reputation to uphold! He couldn't go squandering it on Lydia-freakin'-Deetz, of all people!

Lydia remained silent for a moment. "You sure? You still look like you're in a rotten mood..." she asked hesitantly.

Geeze, couldn't the woman just back off for once? It wasn't like she really cared, anyway. Beetlejuice couldn't remember a time in his afterlife when anyone remotely gave two fucks about him, and he doubted Lydia was an exception. If anything, women despised his ass. Even the paid broads weren't exactly thrilled to see him. This was probably some lame attempt at being civil toward him just to get her way, and unfortunately since she held his balls firmly in her grasp, it was working. Not really knowing how to react, Beetle simply did what he did best: be a complete and total smartass about it. He planted a big, fake smile on his face. "There...better, Deetz?" he growled, his eyes daring her to say another word.

She looked in another direction, not sassing him in any way. _Wise choice._ Her pitiful expression was definitely not bothering him in the least. Nope. Totally not giving him any grief.

The two walked in silence for a bit, before she decided to open her mouth again. Shit! This chick would not give up!

"So...Any good movies playing? Or do you go to the theatre much?" Lydia asked, changing the subject, much to Beetle's relief.

"No idea, Deetz, and yeah, sometimes, but the hookers usually want extra to sit through it with me...Shit gets expensive, yaknowwhutImean?" he shrugged.

"You pay prostitutes to sit through movies with you?" Lydia frowned as she spoke, the emotion in her voice sounding strangely unsettling to him. What was it with this chick?

"Well, not exactly the amount they want, but it keeps 'em from kickin' me in the family jewels, ya know?" he grinned, seeing the theater sign in the distance. "Look, Deetz! We came at the right time. One of mah favorite movies is playin'!" he cackled, grabbing her by the arm and hurrying her along. Even if this chick was tormenting his mind twenty-four-seven, at least a good movie would make things seem termporarily less fucked up.

* * *

Lydia seated herself beside Beetlejuice in the theatre, a disgusted look falling over her features as he held a bucket of green popcorn topped with insects. He looked to her, leaning the bucket of unsavory food in her direction. "Want some?" he asked, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Uh...No, thanks..." Lydia mumbled, edging away from his nasty snack. Her eyes moved about the theatre, noting that it was insanely large and held quite the crowd. "I still can't believe you're a fan of Titanic..."

"Oh, yeah! Love it, Babe! One of mah personal favs!" he chortled, throwing a gob of popcorn and dead bugs in his mouth. _Beetlejuice actually enjoyed Titanic_ , Lydia pondered to herself. Titanic - a dramatic movie about disaster, heartbreak, and love, of all things. _Beetlejuice. Liked. Titanic._ There were no words to describe just how weird and disturbing that fact was.

* * *

"BJ, could you keep it down?" Lydia whispered, hunkering down in her seat from embarassment. Beetle continued cackling hysterically, spewing food and bug parts in the air and slapping his knee. Lydia looked warily about herself, noting the irritated faces of the other moviegoers.

"Keep it down? You gotta be fuckin' kidding me, Babe! Wait, wait! Here's one of the best parts..." he trailed off, watching with much satisfaction as a man fell from the ship, splattered against the giant propeller, and fell limp into the ocean. "HAHAHAHAHA! Now that's what I call comedy gold, eh?" he whooped, nudging her with his elbow.

"It's not a comedy, you moron!" Lydia hissed, trying to quiet him amid the atmosphere of steadily growing irritation and disapproval. Angry murmurs and shushes came from the crowd, but he blissfully ignored them.

Beetle shot her a look. "Well, if it's not a comedy, then it's the funniest fuckin' tragedy I've ever seen in mah life!" he burst out in maniacal laughter. Now his love for Titanic made perfect sense, though Lydia desperately wished it wasn't so. _God, he was an imbecile._

"Hey, lady! Can't you tell your boyfriend to keep his big trap shut? He's ruining the movie for everyone!" a large, muscle-bound biker with a knife lodged in his throat growled.

Lydia groaned, turning to Beetlejuice, who paused a moment, before turning to glare at the huge, intimidating man. "BJ, be quiet! You're gonna cause us to get thrown out of here!" Lydia scolded, though the poltergeist completely dismissed her, solely focused on his new target.

"Can it, Sugartits." Beetle growled, flicking his wrist, as Lydia found herself being bound by a black and white striped rope, pinned back into her seat.

"Shut it, you asshole!" the man yelled, standing and pointing toward Beetle. "I can either watch this in peace or I can throw you out on your ass if you'd like."

"If it makes ya feel any better, the bitch let's him sink in the end! Funniest damned thing I've ever seen! The only complaint I have is that she lived to tell about it!" Beetlejuice cackled hysterically, causing the man to further rage.

"Alright, that's it, you little bastard!" the huge fellow roared, stomping his way toward Beetle's seat.

"You wanna get me, you'll have ta' catch me first..." Beetlejuice smirked, disappearing in a green cloud of sickening smoke.

Lydia struggled against her bonds, scanning the theatre full of frustrated patrons for the presence of the poltergeist. Seeing that he was nowhere to be found, she sighed, feeling completely stupid for requesting going to the movies with him. When would she learn?

"Look, Babe, I'm famous!" Beetle's voice blared from the speakers, as his crusty form sat among the unfortunate crew members on a lifeboat. He cackled, pushing an old woman from the boat into the icy depths. "Don't worry, s'all special effects and shit."

The biker stopped dead in his tracks, turning to Lydia. "What's with this lunatic?" he muttered, dumbfounded.

"Your guess is as good as mine..." Lydia sighed, shaking her head.

Beetlejuice then grinned, turning his index finger into a drill, before sticking it to the floor of the lifeboat. The other crew members began to scream, as Beetle pulled his finger up, and a large surge of water began spurting up from the hole he'd made. He chuckled, "Pretty good, huh? Well, you guys ain't seen nothin' yet..." He then looked briefly to Lydia and winked, before the ship sank, leaving the actors flailing about helplessly in the icy cold water.

"Hypothermia's a real bitch, am I right?" he grinned, floating above the unfortunate actors, as freezing water began bursting from the movie screen.

"Oh, god..." Lydia gasped, squinting hard and bracing herself for the severe discomfort she was about to experience. Only, she didn't experience any discomfort. At all. She didn't even feel the tight pressure of the rope against her body at this point.

Exhaling and opening her eyes, Lydia realized that she was standing on the pavement under a streetlamp with the movie theatre in the distance. Suddenly, a flood of water gushed out of the entrance, washing the crowd out into the parking lot. Angry yells and curses arose from various places among them, prompting Lydia to swiftly walk farther away from the theatre, fearing their wrath, should they spot her. Beetle would have to catch up later. He would know her whereabouts anyway. He somehow always knew where she was lately.

"Hey, where ya' goin?!" his rough, gravelly voice belted from behind her, though she turned to see nothing but the dark of night. When she turned back to the direction she'd originally been walking, she locked eyes with the poltergeist, who was currently wearing a wet captain's hat with a picture of an anchor on the front of it.

"I have to say, some movies are just better the second time around, Babe. Ya get to see all the things ya missed the first time, ya know?" Beetlejuice grinned, tossing his soggy hat away, as she watched it unceremoniously splat on the ground.

Lydia looked warily to the crowd of freezing, stumbling ghouls in the distance. "Are they going to be alright?" she asked, hesitantly.

"Ah 'course they will, Dollface! Probbly the best damned experience they've had!" he snorted.

"Yeah, well maybe next time you won't piss off a biker during the movie." Lydia chuckled, running a hand through her long hair. Then, she remembered what the furious man said to her, feeling completely silly and a bit disturbed. "I can't believe he thought I was your girlfriend," she blurted out, partially talking to herself.

"What's so unbelievable about it, Deetz?" Beetlejuice asked her plainly, an unreadable expression befalling his features. _What?_ She was beginning to feel really weird right about now.

"Uh..." Lydia mumbled, before Beetle paused and grew silent.

"Shhh...Babe, I feel it. Ole' Jerryboy is callin' on me...Oh...so close..." he began to smirk, rubbing his hands together hungrily while licking his mossy lips. "...Two...and...C'mon, Deetz!" he yelled, grabbing her and pulling her into him, before the two vanished on the spot.

* * *

Lydia opened her eyes, finding herself in a skin-tight leather party dress and thigh-high leather boots to match. Lydia sighed, instantly realizing that Beetle had decided to dress her again. Loud music was blaring throughout her surroundings, as drunken and boisterous young adults partied all about her.

"Nice, ain't it?" Beetlejuice spoke in her ear, spooking her and causing her to jump. She whipped around, to find him dressed in a dusty red robe, with a pair of shades on and a cigar in his mouth. He quickly brushed by her, briskly entering the crowd.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Lydia called, grabbing his attention.

He turned, pulling down his shades and flashing a wicked grin. "The ole' B-man wants to meet his future wife!"


	12. Party Planning

Chapter 12: Party Planning

"Wait, why am I here? What am I supposed to do? And why am I in another ridiculous dress?!" Lydia spouted off, feeling the left over irritation from his previous antics at the theatre.

"Woah, Babe. You need to lighten up!" Beetlejuice took a step back, clearly attempting to look apalled and make a big scene about her reluctance. Suddenly, a large bottle of booze poofed into Lydia's hand. "There, that'll do it." Beetle snorted, before turning to leave her alone.

What was he going to do, just leave her to get wasted and sulk in a corner by herself? Gerald would certainly be in his study, and he'd probably be a whole lot less irritating than the poltergeist, so Lydia decided she'd just leave Beetle to his prowling.

* * *

"Oh, thank god it's you..." Gerald peeked from the crack in his door, before fully opening it, and allowing Lydia inside. "Is uh... _he_ here, as well?" he asked, his expression full of dread.

"Yep..." Lydia sighed, stepping into the slightly-less noisy room. She looked to Gerald, noticing that he'd averted his eyes bashfully from her showy ensemble. "Oh, um, I didn't pick these clothes. I really didn't mean to barge in here half-naked. This was all BJ's doing..." Lydia explained, feeling a bit embarrassed herself.

"It's quite alright. I'm not surprised." he replied, wiping the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. "Has he told you how he plans to scare them?"

"Not yet." Lydia shook her head. "He's probably trying to decide which unfortunate soul gets stuck with his ass..."

The room fell awkwardly quiet for a brief moment, before Gerald opened his mouth again, with a hint of curiosity etched on his features. "Didn't you say he tried to marry you once?"

Lydia sighed, before hesitantly nodding. Not the highlight of her previous life, that was for sure. "Yeah. Let's just say it didn't work out..." Lydia cringed internally, remembering not only her desperation that day, but her broken deal to a certain insane ghost.

"I'm sorry if I'm prying. I'm just a bit curious how that even came to be. Did he do the same things to you? You know - all that crazed harrassment?" Gerald asked, wincing when the music outside his room suddenly cranked up a few more decibels, shaking the pictures on his walls.

"Well...sort of. He was actually stalking my friends, Adam and Barbara. Well, they're more than friends. They're more like a second set of parents to me. They were newly deceased, and my family had moved in on their personal space. My step mother turned their house into some awful post modern nightmare fuel. And BJ...Well, he persuaded them to use his services on my family to scare them away, and he did scare the living hell out of them...and _me_..." she grimaced, remembering how young and afraid she'd been when she was face to face with his large, serpentine form.

"So you were alive then. He didn't kill you did he?" Gerald asked worriedly.

"Oh, no! He's an asshole, but he didn't murder me or anything! That's not even why I'm here. My step mother's obtuse friend had the bright idea of performing a seance. He wanted to talk to them, but ended up almost exorcising them instead. God, he was stupid..." Lydia muttered, clearly not missing Otho's tendency to be sure of his abilities to the point of delusion. "Anyway, BJ made a deal with me: if I married him and gave him the ability to get out into the land of the living, then he'd save my friends. Of course, I didn't really have a choice at that point, so I agreed."

"Did he save them?" Gerald continued his curiosity-fueled inquiry, seeming to become more intrigued by the minute.

"Yeah, he did actually. He held up his end of the bargain." Lydia admitted, her lips turning up in a half-grin.

"So, what happened? Did you die before he finished the wedding? Was that it?" Gerald asked, sitting on the edge of his seat. Apparently, this man loved a good story.

"No, believe it or not, it was me who double-crossed him. He made the wedding happen immediately, and I kept saying 'no', and trying to stall so I wouldn't have to marry him. Adam and Barbara were trying to stop him, and then Barbara kind of...made a Sandworm eat him..." Lydia said, wincing.

"Wow...Amazing..." Gerald remarked, looking truly astonished. "And you say you two are friends after all that? Remarkable..."

"Well, I met up with him later after I died in a car crash. I kind of felt horrible for doing that to him, even if he is an insane lunatic. So, long story short, I'm trying to help him get to the other side now. I guess I'm trying to make amends for all that." Lydia explained, still feeling a slight sting inside from remembering the Sandworm. Geez, that had to hurt.

Gerald paused for a moment, as if running things over in his mind. He then smiled warmly. "You have a good heart, young lady. I doubt many people would help such a crass soul, even in those circumstances. Too bad he missed his chance to be with such a kind woman. Of course, that's probably a good thing for you," Gerald chuckled.

Lydia laughed along with him, surprised with his good-natured remarks. "Thank you, Gerald. That's very kind of you. I'm sure BJ will be fine. It wasn't _that_ kind of marriage, anyway. He's just looking to get out."

"So, what happens when he gets out? Will we ever hear from him again? Hopefully not..." Gerald muttered the last part to himself, appearing troubled.

"I...uh...I'm not really sure." Lydia admitted, feeling a strange emotion overcome her. What if he never came back? Was the effect permanent, or just until his living spouse died? Was she going utterly mad? Why did it matter if Beetlejuice was gone for good? She wasn't actually going to _miss_ him, was she?

* * *

Beetlejuice leaned against a wall, taking a drag off his cigarette, and eyeing the two prime cuts he could possibly sink his teeth into. His grimy lips curled into a predatory smile, as he laughed darkly to himself, watching the two young women dance about in a drunken stupor.

"Just mah type..." he drawled, stepping closer to get a better look. It hadn't taken him long to learn a little about them, from merely observing them for a short while. Ashley and Shelly were their names, and he'd be a dumb fucker if he didn't have them memorized, since the two broads kept yammering and slurring each others' names every thirty seconds.

To be honest, it was a hard choice. He could go with Ashley - stupid, blonde hair, big tits, and had a nice ass. Then there was Shelly - also stupid, _brunette_ hair, big tits, and a nice ass.

"Decisions, decisions..." Beetle said, flicking his smoke away and cracking his knuckles as he watched Shelly trip over a six pack of beer and faceplant into the carpet. He looked on, as a big, ugly dude helped her up, and she promplty thanked him by proceeding to make out with said big, ugly dude. "Good manners, too..." he sniggered, hoping that maybe he'd get some action eventually. Hell, the broads would make out with a fucking toaster oven right about now, so surely he could sneak a bit of fun in before the wedding.

He realized it wouldn't take much to scare the daylights out of this crowd of intoxicated assholes. Technically, he could do it right now and just get it all the hell over with. Of course, there was that fucking thing that was irking him to the core - the issue of _Lydia-freakin'-Deetz_. Deep, deep down in the recesses of his twisted, perverse mind, he knew that he'd been stalling. He'd simply lied to Deetz, telling her he wanted to plan ahead this time so he didn't get screwed over again.

And if he _really_ wanted to fuck with his own mind, he knew deep down that these young, hot broads paled in comparison to Lydia. Why did Deetz have to be the single most beautiful chick he'd laid eyes on, both living and dead? There was just something about those big, doe eyes and that long, dark hair that cascaded just below those great honkers. Ah, but that wasn't even the half of it, Beetle reasoned. Lydia treated him different than anyone else ever had. She was kind and tolerant in such a way that turned him into the utmost pussy on every fathomable level in the realm of existence. Needless to say, he didn't like that shit, but he did like her - _a lot._

If Lydia had only been alive at that particular moment, he could pop the question in an instant, and he could've weaseled his way into making her believe it was for some shitty deal-breaking reasons. He wouldn't have had to tell her the truth. Much to his disappointment, she was dead as fuck, and he wouldn't get out if he stuck with her.

Beetle sighed, removing his glasses and stuffing them into one of his absurdly endless pockets, nestling them between the festering swarm of snakes and insects within. "Shit." he muttered, realizing he stood at an impasse. Did he really want to get out that badly? Hell yeah, he did! He could always come back to the Neitherworld to visit her, right? Of course, she probably wouldn't want to put up with his stupid ass anymore. She may never want another thing to do with him again, just like every other dead beat in the afterlife. Hell, he couldn't blame her, since he'd kinda acted like a stupid maniac everytime he felt his insides turn to goop around her.

"Oooohhh shit..." he stated again, realizing that for the first time since he'd learned how to get to the other side, that he wasn't so damned sure he still wanted to go there. This couldn't be happening. Not to him. Not to the ghost with the most.

"Where is Deetz, anyway?" he mumbled to himself, noticing that he had seen hide nor hair of her since he'd went his merry way. Maybe he'd just take her home and let her go. She was doing some crazy shit to his head, and he wasn't so sure of himself anymore. It wasn't like he had a chance with her, anyway.

* * *

Lydia had long moved past her awkward conversation about Beetlejuice, and now she'd been leisurely discussing various favorite books and artists with Gerald, who'd proved to be quite pleasant company. However, their banter was interrupted by none other than the poltergeist himself, who poofed into the room unnanounced, in a cloud of vile, green smoke.

"Alright, Babe. I got it down. Now lets scram. Jerryboy, you know what to do. The name. Call it _thrice_. You know the drill. I'll be ready and waitin'." he stated with a hint of frustration in his voice for god knew what reason, before grabbing Lydia by the hand and forcefully pulling her out of her seat.

"Geez, I can get up by myself..." Lydia groaned, before turning to Gerald, who seemed to be completely confused.

"Look, Mr. B, I'd really like to know the specifics of what you're going to do." Gerald stated, his nervous disposition obvious in his voice.

"Specifics? Really? Does it really fuckin' matter how I scare these dumb bitches, as long as I do it?" Beetle grumbled, pulling Lydia closer to himself.

"Well, uh..." Gerald began, until Beetle cut him off, causing Lydia to glare at him.

"That's what I thougt, Jerr." he grinned, before pulling Lydia into him and vanishing.

* * *

Soon after, Lydia was back in the roadhouse with the poltergeist, who instantly materialized a bottle of booze in his hand, before turning to her. The look on his face was... _peculiar_. She didn't actually know how to read it. Was Beetlejuice in some sort of serious mood?

"Alright. You're done, Deetz. It's over. Complete. Finito." Beetle stated, before quickly downing a large amount of alcohol.

"Wait, what?" Lydia asked, baffled.

"The deal. You helped me out. I can take it from here, Toots." Beetlejuice continued, before nodding toward the door and causing the freakishly large chains to unlock, falling to the floor. "Well, there's the door. Yer free, Dollface."

Lydia noticed that he didn't seem hostile or completely insane for once. If he wasn't already dead, she'd have thought he was dying. And was that a small hint of disappointment in his voice? And why in the blue hell was she feeling kind of rejected and sad right now? Did he not want her around anymore? Just why did she care again?

"A-are you kicking me out?" Lydia blurted out before even thinking.

"What?!" Beetlejuice asked, seeming completely surprised by her question. "Uh...Didn't you want to get the hell outta here? Like away from me and shit?"

"I, uh...don't really have a place to go. I just wanted the chains gone so I could have some freedom, that's all." she replied, suddenly feeling like a complete fool for admitting that she didn't want to run screaming out the door.

"So let me get this shit straight: our deal is done, and you want to stay. Here. _With me_." he spat, shooting her a look of disbelief.

"It's okay. I can go if you want..." Lydia spoke, feeling completely and utterly dejected, and for what reason, she didn't really want to admit. Beetlejuice wasn't actually a bad guy, and he could be quite tolerable half the time. She actually believed he found her tolerable too, until now. Now, she wasn't so sure what she'd done to piss him off, but it must have been huge for him to just end their deal prematurely like that.

"Now, hold up, Sweetcheeks. I didn't say you _had_ to leave. I said yer free. You can do whatever the hell ya want. If ya wanna stay, then fuckin' stay. I don't care." he grumbled. "I just said I can take it from here, Toots. Ya don't owe me no more."

Suddenly, Lydia perked up just a bit, which was also a deeply unsettling feeling, given that the whole root of her worry traced back to Beetlejuice himself. She had, quite literally, taken a nose dive off the deep end. "I'll only stay if you want me to, BJ. I don't want to be a bother to you, okay?" she countered, placing the responsibility of admittance upon the poltergeist once more.

"Look, I said I don't care! I want you to do whatever the hell you wanna do! I'm gettin' out soon, anyway, so I could give two fucks!" he raised his voice, seemingly growing more irate by the minute.

This was it. Something had to give, and unfortunately, Lydia was in a very dismal place in her afterlife, so she just said it. She knew he sure as hell wouldn't, and she had no place to go, and he, of all people, both living and dead, was her only friend available. So, she finally decided to give in.

"I want to stay with you, BJ." Lydia admitted, looking down at the floor for fear of his reaction. She was simply greeted with silence, which caused her to glance up at his face to see if he was ready to explode into another rage fit or something of that nature.

To her surprise, he was completely and utterly shocked. Beetle's mouth was slightly gaped, and his eyes were uncharacteristically softer than usual. "You do?"


	13. Unexpected Arrangements

Chapter 13: Unexpected Arrangements

"Uh...come again?" Beetlejuice found himself asking the question in the most moronic, dumb-assed manner possible. He was pretty sure he'd dropped about eighty IQ points in about five seconds.

"I uh...said I want to stay with you, if that's okay." Lydia repeated, with her big, pitiful eyes and her extreme hotness throwing him for a loop. If he wasn't already a dead son of a bitch, he'd have felt his pulse at this point. Just what the fuck was happening? Since when had he become tolerable enough for _anyone_ to stay with? Last time he checked, women were revolted by him, even the ugly ones! Was this some sort of sick joke? Was Satan himself going to tunnel up from hell and give him the finger or something? Since when did Lydia Deetz actually want to be around him in any way, shape, or form, for any other reason than that damned guilty conscience of hers?

 _Okay, enough of this shit!_ It was time to make her feel extremely uncomfortable, while simultaneously finding out why she was pulling this weird shit. "Why?" he asked with the enthusiasm of a sedated zombie, still in a shit-for-brains haze of not knowing what the fuck was going on.

He watched as Lydia fidgeted around. She fumbled about a bit, apparently digging around in that head of hers for the right words to say while she bit her lip. _Damn,_ _that part was sexy_. "If you haven't noticed, I don't really have anywhere to go..."

"Gee, thanks, Deetz! So glad I'm yer last resort!" he spat, grinning in a mock gesture of happiness. Not exactly the answer he wanted to hear. _At all._

"No! I mean, that came out wrong." Lydia exclaimed, apparently backpedaling on the fact that she made it sound like his house was the object she wanted to obtain. "I mean, I don't just need a roof over my head. I can always do what I did before we met in that bar. I just don't have anyone. My ex-fiance is gone, my family isn't here, and well, you're the only friend I have. And I guess I just don't want you to be pissed at me or anything, which I'm pretty sure you are right now."

"Hey wait a minute! Who said I was pissed? I told you, I ain't pissed! I told ya, I don't need yer help anymore, Babe." he rattled off, only just now realizing that she had indeed admitted that it was actually him that was the reason she'd wanted to stay. Then he paused, returning to his previous, dumb shit state of mind. "But...uh...you can stay, Deetz." he added, just to make sure she wouldn't run off or anything. Then he mentally berated himself for doing that same old dance again, right in the same damned circle, too.

"You're really not mad?" Lydia's eyes narrowed in on him skeptically.

"No. You can stay, Deetz. Not as mah personal slave, but as a uh...friend, or whatever..." he muttered, almost inaudibly, but just loud enough so that she could hear. Then her eyes did that whole wide and gleamy thing, she smiled, and laughed, and he practically handed her his balls all tied up with a neat little bow. All she had to do was lay 'em on the chopping block and neuter his ass as this point. He sure as shit couldn't do anything about it.

Then she thanked him, and of all things, _hugged_ him. She hugged _him._ Women did not _hug_ Beetlejuice. Women did _nothing_ with Beetlejuice. Paid hookers did some things with Beetlejuice, and charged him way more than other guys just to do such things, and that was some pretty unfair shit, but that was also beside the point. The point was that Lydia was hugging him, and it was lingering, and he was standing there with his dick in the dirt like some sentimental moron while she made him all soft and gushy inside. He needed to do something douchey and quick, or he'd be saying 'yes, dear' and putting the toilet seat down in no time. Beetlejuice did _not_ put the toilet seat down. Ever. Maybe he'd slap her ass just to piss her off.

"You know, you're not such a bad guy after all, BJ. I knew everyone was wrong about you..." she smiled, squeezing him tighter.

"Yeah, well..." he grumbled, patting her back in a manner that looked as if he'd catch on fire if he touched her. And just like that, the thoughts of pissing her off had magically vanished and his testicles had promptly retracted into his undead body. And just like that, he was fucked.

* * *

Lydia laid on Beetle's couch, looking up from her newspaper when she heard him sigh. He was sitting on his recliner, glaring a whole into a wall as smoke barreled out from his mossy lips. His cigarette had nearly burned clear to the butt, its ashes hanging crookedly toward the carpet. A whole bottle of whiskey sat empty on the endtable beside him.

"Everything alright, BJ?" Lydia asked, strangely unnerved by how quiet Beetlejuice had been. Beetlejuice was never quiet.

"Eh...Guess the ole' B-man is gettin' a bit anxious. I'm pretty sure them broads have thrown a few bangers by now, knowwhaddimean? I just don't get why fat, white Urkel ain't callin' for me by now." he muttered, unenthusiastically, as his ashes finally hit the floor, collecting into the pile that had formed long ago.

"Maybe they're partying at someone else's house. I'm sure you'll hear from Gerald soon." Lydia tried to reassure him. He really was a mystery, Lydia thought. She'd never expected him to be the type to get dragged down at all. Of course, she'd never expected him to release her from her debts, either, and he'd done just that. Ever since that moment, he'd been a bit different. He was much calmer, which was odd, given who and what he was. He reminded her of a wild animal that had been somehow sedated, and that was very unsettling. Just when she thought she'd begun to learn who he really was, he'd go and reveal another facet of himself. It was quite intriguing, actually, if not a bit alarming.

"Eh, maybe." he grunted, lighting another smoke with the snap of his dirty fingers.

"You really want out, don't you?" Lydia asked earnestly, feeling surprised with just how desolate he'd become while he waited for his chance. She'd realized long ago that he was desperate, but she didn't realize just how unhappy he could be.

"What do you think, Deetz?" he scoffed, flicking some more ashes into the pile on the floor.

Now was her chance to pry a bit more into his thoughts and motivations, and promptly ignore her own. "No, I'm serious. You never told me why you wanted out so badly. What happens when you get out?"

"Look, Deetz, it's my business why the hell I want out." he grunted defensively.

Maybe she'd use another tactic. "Please?" she pouted, knowing full well that he wasn't comfortable with dealing with that sort of thing.

"Ugh..." he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Leave it alone, Deetz."

"Aw, come on, BJ! It can't be _that_ bad!" Lydia insisted, hoping to pry it out of him, and perhaps secretly find out if he'd ever come back.

"FINE!" he spewed, throwing his empty bottle against a nearby wall and shattering it, while the lights dimmed. "I wanna get out so I can get outta this fuckin' hell hole! It's full of no good deadbeats who could give two shits about lookin' at my mug! They ain't nothin' here for me, Deetz! I'm fuckin' bored as hell here. I wanna be out there again! I liked it a hell of a lot better than this creepy dead shit!"

Lydia began to truly feel sympathy for the poltergeist. Sure, he was playing it off as boredom, but her gut told her it was more akin to loneliness. He was right, nobody really cared for him in the Neitherworld, that much was apparent just from watching him in the bar she'd been lurking in. She remembered the way the crowds would part, sniggering and sighing when he entered a room. She heard the things people said about him. Lydia was pretty sure she was the only person who could even tolerate him, let alone like him.

"I'm sorry I took that from you, BJ." she admitted, somehow feeling the urge to show him some sort of kindness. Her sanity had flown out the window long ago, so why not?

"Look Toots, stop with that apologizin' stuff already. It's over, and I no longer give a fuck about it, alright? S'probly better that way, anyway." he said, wiping a hand down his face in defeat.

"What does that mean?" Lydia asked, honestly curious to his answer. If his previous behavior didn't seem like him, then this really wasn't.

"It means what I said. It's probably better. Look, I was desperate, and you were just a kid an' all. Wouldn't like I was gonna do anything to ya, any way. This way ya got to grow up an' not have to be bound to a dead guy and shit. Sure, you picked a dweeby asshole to try an' marry, but it wasn't me. It's done. It's over. That's it, okay?" he shrugged, with some teeny, tiny vein of remorse running through his mannerisms.

"Okay..." Lydia nodded, feeling strangely sad for some reason. However nice it was to actually hear a small shred of humanity come from his lips (albeit unsettling), she also felt a bit like their time together would soon be up, especially judging by the finality of his words. "What happens when someone is bound to you? What would've happened to me?"

Beetlejuice curled his lip in disgust. "You sure like to ask a lot of questions, don't you, Deetz?"

Lydia simply remained silent, hopeful that he'd answer and not eventually blow up.

"Ugh...Fine! Not much would've happened to you, since you didn't know the rules an' all. I, on the other hand, would get my human form back and all that jazz. I could travel back and forth, reverting to each form depending on the plane of the existence I'd be in. I could walk among the living, the dead, scare people, not scare people, fuck living chicks again..." he said, grinning with his last words. "It'd be peachy for me, Deetz."

"What rules?" Lydia furrowed her brow, now deeply interested in what Beetle truly knew about the whole ordeal. Just what had he truly attempted to do? What would have been witheld from her knowledge? What would happen to one of those poor girls he was about to trick into marriage?"

"Well, since you're a stiff now, I guess I can fill ya in." he began, taking a long drag from his cigarette and blowing a huge smoke ring, that somehow seemed to remind her of that wedding ring Beetle still had in his drawer. "Whoever the lucky bride-to-be is, will be completely bound to the B-man, and will gain a small shred of mah power. But, she has to actually be aware of the whole shebang to even use it. What she don't know, she can't use!" he began cackling at this point, seeming truly happy to keep his power to himself. "She'd be the only one who could use the B-word against me, and if she didn't know, I'd be a free man. Ah, good times ahead...At least until she takes the big dirt nap, but hey, that could be fifty years of freedom." he spoke wistfully, donning a big, stupid grin.

Lydia decided he seemed a bit more like his old self after those remarks. Leave it to him to screw someone over on multiple levels. "So, it's only temporary? You'll be back, then?" Lydia raised an eyebrow curiously.

Suddenly, a sneaky grin painted its way across his lips. "What? Will ya miss me? Can't bear for the B-man to leave ya?"

Here he was, cornering her again. _May as well tell the truth_ , she thought. It wasn't like things could get any worse for her. "Well, maybe a little. I guess you kind of grew on me like mold or something." she smirked.

"Yeah, well, that's kinda mah thang." he drawled, putting on a feigned air of modesty and bashfulness, before changing the subject. "Whadabout you, Deetz? You still gonna look for that prick that left ya standin' at the altar, or what?"

Lydia's heart sank, remembering Eugene, and all of the penalties currently against her. She literally had no choice but to find and face him so that he might tell her what happened. "Yeah, I really need to. It might be the only way I'll gain my abilities. Then I can actually see my family again."

"Yeah, thought so." Beetle muttered, wincing for some reason when she'd mentioned the name of her ex again. "Look, I'd go talk to one of 'em myself, but I'm kinda on probation and shit. If word gets around that I talked to 'em, I'm kinda fucked." he said regretfully. Then Lydia wondered immediately why he'd take the risk of trying to find her again when he thought she was still alive. Of course, Beetlejuice was all about benefits, and if the benefit outweighed the risk, he'd still do it. She had come the closest to actually getting him out, after all.

Still, she couldn't resist the urge to bring it up for some odd reason. "Didn't stop you from looking for me." she smirked mischievously.

"Real funny, Deetz." he glared, not amused. "That was different. I coulda got out with you. Besides, you're a helluva lot more easy to stomach than the rest of those assholes. No offense." he remarked, instantly making Lydia feel that there was really another reason he'd gone searching for her in the first place. He obviously had to feel differently about her, and that some how made her feel more regretful that they hadn't ever got to seal the deal. Why was she feeling that way, again? True, she'd felt remorse about it before, but this was rather _different._

"No offence taken," she mumbled, realizing that she had to be the single most twisted woman in the realm of existence.

The room fell quiet for a moment, before Beetlejuice's eyes began to narrow, as the jagged gears in his head were apparently turning. "There maybe somethin' I can do, Babe." he stood, flicking his cigarette and watching it dissolve in mid-air.

"Really? You'll help me?" Lydia nearly gasped, dropping her newspaper to the floor.

"Sure. Why the hell not?" he shrugged. "I'll be back."

Before Lydia could so much as ask what he was planning to do, he'd vanished in a cloud of green mist.


	14. Another Bargain

Chapter 14: Another Bargain

Beetle materialized in the waiting room, looking with disgust at the various mutants and abominations that lined the walls of said waiting room. He sure didn't miss that place, and he sure as shit didn't miss sitting in that place with a head the size of a golfball.

"Heya, hi, how are ya?" he looked about himself, feeling all eyes on him. "Well, nice knowin' you deadbeats." he quickly shrugged it off, walking up to see little Miss Argentina, or as he liked to call her, Miss Suicide Extraordinaire with a Side of Bitchy Secretary Stirred In. He then promptly reminded himself he'd have to come up with a shorter nickname for her later.

"Hey there, Sugar..." he leered, hunkering down on the other side of the glass to meet eye to eye with her.

He watched as she sighed, hanging up the phone placed at her ear, and glaring at him in her usual, bitch-like fashion. It would have probably made him extremely horny if it wasn't for Deetz. Damn, she had him by the nads!

"Not _you_ again." she rolled her eyes, sighing. "Here, take it, sit down, and don't open your mouth." Miss Argentina demanded, shoving a ridiculously long number written on a strip of paper in his face.

Beetle grinned from ear to ear, watching her eyes nearly burn a hole through his head. "'Fraid I can't do that, Dollface. Now why don'tcha make this a hell of a lot easier for the both of us, and let me see the old bag? Ah, ah, ah!" he scolded, wagging his finger before she could tell him to fuck off, which was exactly what she was beginning to do. "Now before you tell me to piss off, just remember how much fun you had the last time my ass was in here. Do ya reallly hate yerself that much? Ya really wanna do that to yerself? Or would ya rather take that piece of paper, tear it the fuck up, and let me talk to her? Then I'm gone and out of your big, curly pageant hair. What'll it be, Toots?" he threatened, remembering just how unpleasant he'd made his last stay for her. Hell, how was he supposed to know she wasn't lying about not being a stripper? How was he to know that asking four to five times a day for a lap dance was a bit much? Was a guy really so bad for wanting some cheap entertainment while waiting in Satan's outhouse to see the single most ugly hag in the Neitherworld? He didn't think so.

Miss Argentina snarled her lip, before crushing the paper in her hand. "Fine, go. And don't you dare ask me if I'm a stripper, because you already know the answer." she spat, glaring.

Beetle feigned a big, stupid grin. "Good. I'll be waitin' for that lap dance when I get out." he growled, as she seethed, hitting the glass in her rage as he walked briskly away, cackling like a madman.

* * *

"Ah, Juno, you sweet, beautiful creature, you! It's been so long! How the fuck are ya, Baby?!" Beetlejuice barged through her door, interrupting her meeting with one of her clients, who happened to be a man in a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, with a large needle lodged firmly in his neck.

She glared at Beetle, before finishing up. "Alright, you have all the paperwork I've given you concerning your transfer to the next life. Now get out of here, and stay the hell away from this guy if you actually want to stay in Paradise." She pointed a wrinkly old finger toward Beetlejuice, as the man nodded hesitantly, before slowly leaving the room.

Beetle invited himself to plop into the chair in front of her desk, before thrusting his muddy boots on her table, strategically placing them on a large stack of papers. He looked about the office, pretending to be impressed. "Ah really like what you've done to the place, Junes. Has a nice ahm-bee-ahnce about it, ya know? Guess it's the whole 'slave to the system' oppression thing ya got goin' on here...Really makes it feel like home!" he gushed, watching her ugly face scowl, and making it even more unattractive, if that was even possible.

"Shut up, Juice! What the hell do you want?!" she huffed, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag, as Beetle watched the smoke roll up from the slit in her throat. Damn, that was nasty.

"Alright, I'll cut to the chase. I need you to look into public records for me. I need info on a prick named Eugene Havard, and where he lives." Beetle grunted, hoping she'd ask as little as possible about his situation, though she probably wouldn't do that.

She shot him a wary look. "This isn't another bouncer you want to torment is it? Did you get thrown out of that nightclub again?"

"Fuck no! That only happened three times, anyway..." he scowled, crossing his arms.

"Then what is it? Ugh, you know what? I don't even want to know. You're gonna do whatever the hell you want, anyway. Wait here and DON'T touch anything!" she warned, before disappearing into a back room.

About twenty minutes and a couple of Juno's stolen cigarettes later, she finally emerged with a file in her wrinkly old hands. Why was she so damned wrinkly? She sat back down, giving him a look that clearly said she'd figured out what he was doing.

"Well?" he spat impatiently, ignoring her telling glare.

"Don't pretend I don't know what you're doing here, Juice. I've scanned over his file. This is Lydia Deetz' ex-fiance. What are you doing with her again? Didn't I tell you to stay the hell away from her from now on?" she seethed, still glaring daggers.

"Hey! I didn't go lookin' for her! We ran into each other, and we sort of...made _nice_ with each other and all that shit..." he grumbled, a bit embarrassed for having to admit it. Of course, it was only a half-truth, given the fact that he'd actually looked for her before, and also given that she sort of helped him gain a chance to get out again, which Juno would NOT need to know.

"I know you too well, Juice. Don't think I don't know what you're trying. You obviously had leverage over that poor girl, since she breached your agreement. Which, I might add, you should have never forced her into in the first place!" she hissed, throwing the file on her desk unceremoniously.

"Woah, now! I didn't force her! She said yes!" Beetle made sure to add, though he knew he had not a snowball's chance in hell of winning an argument with the likes of that liver-spotted witch.

"She was under duress, and you know it! You took advantage of a little girl, Juice! You were going to use her to get out, and she paid the price for you being an asshole!" Juno fumed. "You're the reason she can't have her abilities, she can't see her family, and she doesn't even know how she died! Why she has anything to do with you baffles the daylights out of me!"

"Well, I'm gonna help her ass, okay?! There, ya happy? I'm gonna find this prick that stood her up and take her to him so she can find out somethin'. Then, bam! She has her powers and all that good shit back. Geez, Juno...Talk about ridin' my ass..." he huffed, exasperated. Yeah, yeah, yeah! He knew he was the Neitherworld's biggest asshole for doing that to her, but at least he was trying now.

"What? What did she do for you, Juice? I know you. You don't just help people out of the goodness of that tar pit you call a heart." she spoke, narrowing her eyes.

"Ugh...She apologized and made me feel sorry for her and all that crap." he sighed, eyeing his crusty fingernails for a distraction. Man, he was feeling super uncomfortable right about now.

Juno fell quiet for a brief moment, before opening her old trap again. "You've done all that to her, and she came to _you_ and apologized?" she asked, seeming genuinely curious for once.

"YES! How many times are you gonna make me say it?! Yeah, I'm a bastard! I get it!" he yelled, as his anger starting to rise.

"You've been using her again, haven't you? Is she helping you get out, Juice? Because if she is, she'll be penalized again, and it will be twice as harsh given the fact that she's not finished her first sentence." Juno warned before taking another hit off her cigarette.

"Yeah, well, she's not helping me. Whatever I do is all me, Junes. Truth is..." he began, instantly feeling tense and strained by what he was about to admit. He had to admit it, though, for her safety. He wasn't about to drag her into more of his consequences. "Lydia's a good kid. She didn't have nowhere to go, and she's been stayin' with me. She's actually pretty good company, if you can get past all that endearing, nice shit she does." he smirked, taking his boots off her desk and straightening in his seat. "I wanna help her."

Juno's stern expression surprisingly softened, as she studied him for a moment. "I don't know why on earth I believe you, but somehow I do. I don't know how the hell this happened, but somehow you've actually learned how to care about someone besides yourself for once. That being said, I still think you are up to no good. I know you, and I know you've been trying to get out for a long time, Juice. I've heard rumors that you've attempted this feat again, but failed miserably like you always do. You were a crook when you worked for me, and you're still a crook now, and this Lydia girl seems to be the only one who can bring out what little humanity you have left. If she's so special to you, like she seems to be, I don't know why you don't just give up these useless attempts and be with her. She obviously cares for you, and she's way above your station, so why don't you stop while you still can?" Juno explained, for once not seeming bitter or vindictive.

Damn, he hated being put on the spot. Maybe he'd just answer with a question, since that always seemed to veer the conversation away. Unfortunately, the question was still on subject, which proved that he was stupid as fuck. "You really think that chick cares for a wanker like me?"

"Apparently, since she sought out your forgiveness and decided to shack up with you. Sure seems like it." she stated, matter-of-factly.

"Hey, now! We ain't shackin' up. Hell, we ain't even had sex! Not even close!" he countered, only now realizing his mistake. He'd just admitted to being a whipped puppy in the presence of Lydia Deetz. _Shit._

"Really?" Juno asked skeptically, as Beetle nodded in embarrassment. "You have a young woman living with you, and you haven't tricked her into sleeping with you yet? I can't believe it..." she grumbled to herself in disbelief. "I'll admit, that's a new one on me, Juice. You must really like this one."

Beetlejuice sighed, running a hand through his wild hair. There was no use lying to Juno. She'd see right through him, anyway. "Yeah, well...Don't go tellin' everybody. I gotta reputation to maintain, an' all that."

"Juice, don't let this one go. It's not worth a such a short span of freedom. I know you hate it here, but we all hate it here. Look, there's only two people in the whole Neitherworld who don't believe that you're as despicable as you seem, and I sure as hell don't want to spend my life with your ass. That leaves her, Juice. Don't screw it up." she spoke, somehow seeming compassionate through her usually insufferable demeanor. Hell, Juno could be alright sometimes. Maybe that's why he'd requested that she stayed his case worker in the first place. Or maybe it was just fun to torment her from time to time. Whatever.

"Er...I'll uh, think about it..." he admitted reluctantly, knowing full and well Lydia was perfect. He'd been smitten with the chick since they'd reunited, but he wasn't so sure it was the other way around.

"I'm only giving you this information because of her, Juice. She has to be a saint to put up with the likes of you. Help her, for her sake." Juno spoke, handing him the file. "Now get out of here. I have a shit-ton of paperwork to do, and I don't need you in here stinking the place up." she spat, immediately reverting back to her geriatric, soul-sucking form.

"Yeah, yeah..." he muttered, taking the file and heading for her door. Suddenly, a small pang of fear hit him, causing him to turn to her and blurt out his current thought. "What if she don't want me?" he asked, instantly revolted by the vulnerability leaking through his voice.

Juno sighed, putting down her pen and picking up her cigarette once more. "She's come this far, Juice. That's no small feat, considering no one can stand you. Just do right by her. She'll come around."

He figeted about, nodding hesitantly before leaving her room. In a very short span of time, he'd been reduced from a terrifying, vile poltergeist, to a domesticated, nad-less man. Go figure.

Unfortunately, that bout of wallowing in his own pitiful thoughts was abruptly ended by a sharp, pointed stiletto to the family jewels, causing him to fall to the floor and squeal like a little girl, grabbing his groin.

"There's your lap dance, you asshole! Now, get out!" Miss Argentina hissed, before briskly clacking her way back to her office. Damn, he needed to quit pissing off women.

* * *

Lydia paced about the kitchen, wondering why the hell Beetle had vanished, and just what he was up to. It wasn't until she'd began to grow a little worried, that she heard a loud thud in the living room of the roadhouse.

"BJ?" she called, walking in on him, as he staggered up from the floor, clutching at his crotch and holding a folder full of papers. "What happened to you?"

"Eh, nothin' I didn't deserve." he muttered, hobbling over to the sofa, where she sat beside him.

"Is there anything I can do? You need me to get you something?" she asked, feeling concerned for him in a way that seemed a bit stronger than before.

"You could kiss it an' make it all bet - Er...Uh...Nah, I'm good." he rasped, wincing, and apparently holding back on some lewd comment he was about to make. _Smart_ _move_ , Lydia reasoned.

"What is that?" she asked, pointing to the strange folder in his grasp with intense curiosity.

"This right here is the file of our ole' buddy, Eugene Havard, and boy have I got a treat for him!" he grinned maliciously, licking his green teeth before handing it to her. "It's all yours, Babe."

"Is this all his information?" Lydia asked, startled by such a nice gesture. Before she could control herself, she threw her arms around Beetle, squeezing him and causing him to groan in pain. She quickly let go in response. "Sorry."

"Nah, it's all good, Babe. I uh...don't mind. Well, besides the horrific testicle pain and all..." he admitted, causing a warmth to well up inside of her.

Then, she paused. "Wait. Did someone kick you in the nuts?" she asked, wrinkling up her face in disgust.

"Uh, yeah. Anyway, I have a plan, Toots. We're gonna pay ole' Eugene a visit, and get your afterlife back. Whaddya say?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

Lydia smiled, feeling truly hopeful for the first time in ages. "I'm in."


	15. The Truth

Chapter 15: The Truth

Beetle clicked the button on his remote a couple of times, before realizing that all of his usually glorious nudie flicks no longer held his attention. He cursed to himself, before flinging said remote in the floor, wondering just when the hell Deetz was gonna get out of his room and tell him all the gory details of her death. Boredom was not something that sat well with Beetlejuice. _No siree._

He sighed, standing and adjusting his battered nether regions, all the while wondering just why the hell Lydia found him even remotely tolerable. One probably shouldn't question a presumably good thing, but question he did. Even more, he questioned his own sanity for being such a pussy-whipped bastard. Hell, he'd just literally gotten his gonads crunched like he'd been laying with his legs splayed apart on the stage of a River Dance concert, for god's sake! And it was all for her! Lydia Deetz: liar, deal-breaker, and former enemy. Now, the horror to end all horrors had happened. He actually _liked_ Lydia Deetz. No, this wasn't shake her hand, good to meet ya like. No. This was _like-like._

Even more, the damnable misery of it all was that he found himself not quite so determined to get out of the Neitherworld anymore. That was a problem - a huge fucking problem.

"Ugh..." Beetle grumbled, hobbling carefully to the fridge in hopes of finding an ice pack or something for his aching manhood, while feeling completely at a crossroads. He'd spent centuries looking to get out of that devil's ass crack called the afterlife, and had finally found a solid chance of getting out, only to have Lydia Deetz make him want to stay. _Damn._

Unsuccessful in his search to find relief for his testicles, he simply grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and placed it against the horrific injury, wincing. Beetle instantly regretted simply poofing away from that snot-colored secretary. If he was going to end up with a groin the texture of hamburger meat, he should've at least thrown a few dollar bills at her before he left - ya know, really drive the point home.

Feeling damnably bored, miserably confused, and most likely neutered, he simply (and very, very carefully) seated himself at the kitchen table, nearly howling as he sat. A bottle of whiskey appeared on the table (since the beer was obviously needed for another purpose). He grabbed it and began guzzling immediately, when he heard the door to his room quietly creak open.

Beetle froze, somehow feeling strangely tense that Lydia may now know the truth about her death, whatever that may be. Since when did he actually feel nervous for anyone else? He rolled his eyes, internally berating himself for being such a pansy.

He grew completely silent and still, listening to each muffled patter of her light footsteps on the carpet. When she came into view, his face fell slack in a bout of confusion. She just stood there, looking equally as baffled as himself.

"So?" Beetle blurted out, finally lowering his bottle of whiskey.

"Well, I tried to read it. I flipped through all two hundred and fifty pages." she began, the hesitation clear in her voice.

"And?!" Beetlejuice questioned with a glare that clearly said _spit it out._

"It's no use, BJ. It's all encrypted. It just looks like blurry lines to me, and that's bad, but..." she trailed off, her face wincing up in a look that said _I need something, but I'm afraid you'll be pissed about it._

"But what?!" Beetle growled, growing very impatient and shooting her another glare that said _I'm always pissed, so just go ahead and tell me, damnit!_

Lydia sighed, rolling her eyes, while Beetle wondered if he thought the last thing or said it out loud. _Whatever_ , he shrugged.

"I really wanted to find out for myself, but maybe you can read it for me. As long as I find out, it doesn't matter who reads this. It shouldn't be encrypted or under a weird spell or anything for you." she admitted, stepping up to him and gently laying the papers on his table.

He eyed them, grunting in displeasure. The only thing worse than an injured sausage, was having to read a shit ton of legal papers while simultaneously experiencing said injured sausage. _Fuck._

His eyes moved back to Lydia, who seated herself and was now giving him the most endearing sad puppy dog face he'd ever seen. She sighed, before speaking again. "Look, BJ, I know this is annoying for you. I'm sorry. I'd read it myself if I was capable..."

"Ugh, Deetz..." he grumbled, exasperated. There she went doing all that sweet, nicey-nice shit again. Of course he was gonna do it, and he was pretty sure that she knew she had him right where she wanted him, which was apparently stuck right up her ass, ready and waiting to do anything she wanted.

He quickly snatched the file with much frustration, his eyes briefly glancing at her expression, which was one of pure gratitude. Unfortunately, he was whipped harder than even he believed, for he caught himself grinning like he'd just eaten a big ole' pile of shit due to her cute little smile. He quickly scowled again, burying his nose in the file and diverting his attention away from his own dumbass feelings. Yep, definitely don't need those right now.

Alas, the papers were clearly visible to him, though by the time he'd spent about a half a day reading them, he'd wished he hadn't...

* * *

Beetle quietly crept into the living room, his face slack and his eyes fixated on Lydia, who was sleeping peacefully on his old sofa. Long ago, she'd stepped out of the kitchen in an attempt to not irritate him any further. Apparently, she'd grown tired and fallen asleep during her wait.

He sighed, seating himself in his recliner as he pulled a large cigar out of the air and began to take a long drag on it. He'd found out a lot of shit, and it wasn't pleasant by any means. His newfound discovery had actually provoked a long-forgotten emotion from him, and that feeling was one of sympathy.

He could've woken her and told her everything, but he decided to just wait. He simply didn't have the heart to give her the news while she slept so peacefully.


	16. Out With It

Chapter 16: Out With It

The orange-hued light from a nearby window had finally caused Beetlejuice to pry his crusty eyes open. Apparently, he'd fallen asleep, cigar still hanging lazily from his lips, burnt from end to end. He grimaced, spitting the ashy remains from his mouth as he proceeded to stretch and scratch certain unmentionable areas, before removing his carcass from his previous resting spot.

As soon as the haze of waking had ended, Beetle found his mind wondering to the files he'd read the night before. Involuntarily, his eyes darted to the sofa, noting that it was empty and Lydia was nowhere in sight.

"Ugh...Fuck me..." he muttered to himself, disturbed by not only what he was about to tell her, but by the fact that he was disturbed by anything happening to anyone. Hell, he was actually experiencing a bout of anxiety. Him. _Nervous._ He hadn't felt anything even close to that emotion since he'd accidentally taken home that tranny, and that was a whole other ball game. _Two_ balls to be exact.

Beetle sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and ignoring the usual morning snacks crawling on the back of it. He quietly stepped through the roadhouse, examining each room for signs of Lydia, all the while wondering just how she would react. Sure, she'd broken her deal with him in the past and caused him all sorts of not-goodness, and sure he may have wanted just a teensy-weensy speck of revenge, but he realized he actually didn't wish to see her crushed.

After a bit of searching, he found that she'd crept into his bed again, like she'd grown accustomed to do over time. Beetle scowled, mentally berating himself for being the one sleeping on the couch in his own home. For letting her pussy-whip him into submission. For putting the toilet seat down. Didn't he say he wasn't going to do that?

Figuring that her slumber was actually biding him some time, he grunted, shrugged, and seated himself on his sofa, pulling a flask from one of his endless pockets. _Might as well drink up_ , he figured. It was gonna be one long hell of a day.

* * *

Ten flasks later, Beetlejuice was startled by three Lydias stepping into the living room. "Ugh..." he muttered, rubbing his eyes and focusing his blurry vision to find that she had not actually multiplied by some weird ghost-mitosis shit. Of course she couldn't. She couldn't do anything. Lydia had no powers because she hadn't found out all that awful shit about her death. That shit that he had yet to tell her in his currently trashed state.

He straightened himself, snapping a cigarette between his grimy fingers and making the afterlife's worst attempt to resemble something sober. Of course, that idea totally went down the shitter, considering he was still holding an open flask while surrounded by all the other incriminating evidence.

"So...Did you read it all?" Lydia asked him quietly, while slowly seating herself beside him.

"Uhhh...yeah..." he slurred, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Damn this was uncomfortable. He could barely look her in the eyes, and when he did, she seemed completely unreadable.

Lydia sighed, as if preparing herself for something potentially traumatic. "So, what's the verdict? Is it... _bad_?" she asked, looking a bit dreadful. "It is, isn't it?" she remarked, now eyeing his heaping pile of empty alcohol containers.

"Huh...What gave it away?" Beetle smirked, attempting to lighten the mood, though it seemed both of them knew it was not pleasant.

Lydia returned a faint, uneasy smirk, before falling somber again. "What happened?" she asked hesitantly.

Beetle quickly downed his flask and tossed it to the side. "Junes was right. You got hit by a car." he began, growing uncharacteristically tense inside.

Lydia nodded, gesturing for him to get on with it. "And?"

"And..." Beetle stalled. Damn, why was this so hard? Why was he worried about it? Why did he give two shits about Lydia Deetz's feelings? He knew exactly why, and it scared the living hell out of him. If crushing her with bad news was this hard, just how the fuck was he supposed to marry some living chick and be a free man? This wasn't him. This wasn't the Ghost with the Most. He needed to get the hell on with it. "He did it, Deetz." he stated bluntly, trying his best to be his former self and stifle the emotional angst gnawing at his insides.

He watched as her face twisted up in confusion. " _Who_ did it?"

"Ughh...That dickhead you were gonna marry. You know, that prick with the dumbass name. He was out partyin' with some broad with fake cans. He decided to drive her to that party you were stalkin' him at. The asshole was completely _shitfaced_ , mind you..." he grumbled, trying to concentrate on not caring about the pitiful expression falling on her features, which was stirring something really fucking inconvenient inside of himself. Not only did his pity for her grow against his own will, but a pang of jealousy began to fill him up as well. Seeing her eyes begin to glaze over with tears only fueled his jealous feelings. Why the fuck did she waste her time crying over some cocksucker with the name Eugene? Hell, that was even worse than the name Gerald!

Nevertheless, he held in his rage for once. Something in the way she looked at him with her big doe eyes, wide and full of pain, caused him to dial back on his usual asshole-esque behavior. "He didn't even see ya comin', Babe..." he spoke a bit more softly, which deeply caused him to question himself for changing so much over one woman. His instinct was to fight against this disturbingly docile part of himself and do something really douchey just to protect his own ego. He really, really wanted to. He pondered, even briefly fantasized, about ranting on how stupid she was for choosing such a loser, just to widen the dangerously close gap between them. But, for some reason, he didn't fight it. He just sat there being all concerned and shit. He looked at her, sighing not only because of her obvious angst, but due to his own bitter defeat.

She had won. Lydia-fuckin'-Deetz had won. And he didn't even feel pissed about it at this point. This was some really scary shit. Beetle cleared his throat, just to break the awful silence in the room. "You okay, Babe?"

Lydia paused a moment, before slowly nodding. "Yeah...I am...I will be...I, uh..." she stuttered, before standing abruptly. "I-is it okay if I take a walk, BJ? I just need to, uh, clear my head..." she continued, clearly shaken and quickly wiping her tears away in what seemed to be embarrassment.

Instinctively, Beetle stood up, blocking her path. "Uh...You _sure_ you're okay?" he asked, giving into his concerns for once in his afterlife.

"Yeah...Can I go? Please?" she asked urgently, in what seemed like her best attempt to hold back her emotions, though she was clearly failing.

Surprised that Lydia had even cared enough to ask his permission for anything, Beetle shrugged uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah. You don't have to ask me any more, Babe. I done told ya yer free. You can do what ya want."

At his words, Lydia didn't speak. She only nodded, quickly bolting out the front door. Beetle juice stood speechless, watching her run out of sight.


	17. Patience is Overrated

Chapter 17: Patience is Overrated

Beetle stood, leaning on the outside of his roadhouse, flicking a finished cigar away and blowing smoke into the night sky. He sighed, growing a bit unsettled. Lydia had been away since that morning, and still, she hadn't returned.

Truthfully, he wasn't sure what to do. Should he let her have her space or just go and see if she was okay? Part of him wanted to spare his own feelings and just forget the whole damned thing. Lydia didn't even know how he felt about her, and yet he was letting his own chances of ever getting out slowly slip away because of her. Sure she was sweet and nice and hot as hell, but she was also very, very dead. Yeah, she would have made a damned good wife, girlfriend, whatever, but she also had zero chances of getting his ass out! It was a lost cause and he knew it. Hell, Lydia would probably never think of his nasty ass in that way, anyway. That was like asking her if she wanted to contract the clap (which he may or may not have still had).

"Fuckin' pathetic..." he muttered, disgusted with the way he'd been secretly doting over the young woman. He needed to do what he'd damn well intended to do in the first place! He'd sit and wait for that four-eyed butterball to summon his ass, like he was supposed to! He'd have one hell of a party, scare the shit out of some stupid college brats, and find himself a nice, drunk piece of ass to slap a ring on and force into marriage! That's what he intended to do before Morticia Adams had sulked right back into his life, and that's what he was gonna do now!

Beetlejuice grunted in satisfaction with his decision to firmly latch onto his testicles and not let them go running off the next time he saw Deetz's face again. He then proceeded to not care about her, while going inside to not care some more.

* * *

Beetlejuice flipped through his latest issue of Plagueboy in an attempt to NOT care about ole' whatserface and NOT glance at his watches every five minutes and NOT wonder where she was. Not that he had any problems with that, or anything.

He grinned lecherously, holding the magazine up and allowing the centerfold picture to unveil itself. "Ahhh, that's reeeeal nice, there..." he told himself, before his eyes strayed from the nudie picture back to his watches. "Uh, nice cans, too! Hell, she's even got all her appendages! I'd hit that!" he chuckled nervously, feeling a tiny twinge of fear well up inside himself. It was currently three in the morning and she still wasn't there. Where the hell was she? Surely she wasn't trying to reunite with that prick again...

"Grrr...FUCK IT!" Beetle growled, throwing the magazine against the wall and watching it fall unceremoniously to the floor. So much for growing a set.

Beetle kicked over his coffee table, as half-empty bottles of booze and ashtrays full of cigarette butts hit the floor. He just couldn't quit thinking about her, and that just pissed him off! Fine, he'd just go make sure she was okay, then he'd leave her alone. _Yeah that was the trick_ , he thought to himself, before leaving the roadhouse and slamming the door behind him.

* * *

He walked down the crumbled sidewalk, puffing on another smoke and glancing about himself warily. "Where the hell did she go...?" he grumbled, hoping to bump into her as he had recounted doing before.

Up ahead, Beetlejuice noticed an old, nearly skeletal man sitting under a flickering, twisted streetlamp. The guy looked like he'd taken up permanent residence there, what with the cobwebs hanging off of him and all, thus provoking Beetle to make an inquiry.

"Hey! You seen a little dark-haired gal come through this way?" he asked, stepping up to the old guy, while simultaneously admiring the vast fields of wrinkles upon his skin. Beetle figured that if they were like the rings in a tree trunk, the guy must've been like a thousand years old.

"Errr...Let's see..." the man rubbed his stubbly chin, running things over in his mind. "I did see a little lady on that bridge over there about an hour ago. Just stood there, looking down into the abyss below. Real pretty little thing. Sad, though. What did ya do to her?" the man asked narrowing his already beady eyes.

"NOTHIN'!" Beetle spat, instantly irked. Why did everyone always blame him when a woman got upset? "Why do you think I did somethin' to her?!" he fumed.

The old guy rubbed his chin once more in contemplation. "Well, I heard you got yourself thrown out of some bar four times for harrassing the womenfolk..." he mused aloud.

"Okay, Methusala! First of all, it was THREE times, and that wasn't just some bar. That was one of the hottest damned nightclubs in the Nietherworld!" Beetle growled, snarling just inches away from his face. Besides, he didn't even get thrown out last time. He left with Lydia and that chick with the beard stubble that turned out not to really be a chick , or whatever. _God, Lydia hated that place_ , he thought. Then he thought a little more, following an inkling in the back of his mind. She may have hated that place, but there was a place that she actually liked - a dirty little bar, in the wee hours of the morning.

Just as the old codger was about to retaliate, Beetle took a long drag from his cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke in his face. "Not now, gramps. I got places to go." he snorted, before disappearing in an instant.

* * *

Just as abruptly as he'd vanished from his previous spot, he reappeared in front of a place he'd been all too familiar with. "The Red Rum" stood before him, in all its delapidated, grotesque glory. "Ah, I missed you, old girl..." he drawled, remembering all the booze, broads, and uncountable slaps to the face he'd received there over the years. _Ah, good times_ , he reminisced...


	18. Manhood and Stuff

Chapter 18: Manhood and Stuff

Beetle strolled up to The Red Rum, noting the giggles and sneers of a few women standing just outside the bar. He grunted, unimpressed, as he laid eyes on the chick with a pole through her head and old one-arm again.

"Been a long time since we seen you 'round here, Mr. B..." the one-armed chick grinned slyly.

"Yeah, that ain't at all like you, Mr.B..." the pole-headed broad chimed in, stepping in front of him and blocking his path.

Beetle grunted in annoyance, folding his arms. "What the hell do you want?"

"You still broke, Mr. B?" Pole-head asked, smacking her gum so loudly it nearly made him cringe.

Before he could reply, ole' one-arm interrupted her. "You're wastin' your time, honey. You know Mr. B likes to skip on the bill. The last time he took a ride he paid me with a napkin that had 'IOU' written in mustard." she scoffed, scowling in his direction with the best fuck you face she could muster.

"Beat it." he growled, not amused.

"Besides," the one armed broad began to snigger to the other woman, "I heard he got himself a little _girlfriend_. He's probably too busy lettin' her boss him around to have any REAL fun..."

"What?! Who the fuck told you that?!" Beetle fumed, becoming irate. How the fuck did anyone know about Lydia? What was going on?

"Oh, words all over the streets, Mr. B." the woman with the pole-head giggled. "Ever since people saw you with that gal that played the piano, we all noticed you ain't been around much. Heck, you've hardly even been out, unless it's with her. The nightclub, the movies..."

Beetle simply stood, his features falling slack at those words. Was it really that obvious? No, it couldn't be, cause it wasn't like that. Lydia Deetz wasn't his girlfriend, and she'd never be. She was a former deal-breaker who owed him until he'd received payment, and now she was...What was she? A friend? Hell, he didn't even know anymore. "It ain't like that..." was all he could bring himself to say.

"If it ain't like that, then why are you goin' after her again?" One-arm chimed in.

"Who said that's what I'm doin'?" Beetle snapped back, feeling the urge to juice both their traps shut.

"Well, she's inside right now, and you're goin' inside right now, so..." the other hooker remarked, smirking.

"She's in there?!" Beetle could feel his eyes grow wide with anticipation, and as soon as he realized his face had lit up, the two broads did, too. Damn, he wanted to wipe those stupid smirks off their faces - preferrably with a big roll of extra-course grain sandpaper. Or a flamethrower.

"Yeah, she looked pretty gloomy, Mr. B. What'd you do to her?" One-arm asked, giving him a leary glance.

"WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK I DID SOMETHING?!" Beetle huffed, stomping past the two hookers, as they looked to each other, as if to say, yup, he definitely did something. _Bitches._

* * *

Beetlejuice entered the bar, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim, crimson lighting and the smokey haze that constantly hung in the air inside. Some pathetic old ghouls were sitting in various places, either drowning their sorrows in a bottle or drowning face-down in their own vomit.

He stepped toward the back of the bar, seeing Lydia at a small table in a dark corner, also seemingly in the act of drinking her problems away. Though he wouldn't admit it to himself, he was a bit relieved to see that she was alone - minus any potential horny, hovering jackasses in her parameters.

"Ah, I see you've decided to grace us with your presence..." Beetle's brow raised, as he looked over his shoulder to see the second (only to Juno) ugliest face he'd ever laid eyes on. "What'll it be this time?" the old-ass waitress from before hissed.

"Oh...Eh...the usual..." Beetle shrugged, his eyes moving back to the much younger, and much less visually offensive Deetz.

"And what for the ladyfriend?" the waitress continued, as Beetle scowled.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Beetlejuice snapped.

The old woman's face wrinkled further (if that was even possible) into a look of irritation. "I mean, what does your little girlfriend want? You two are sitting together, aren't you?" she griped, pointing a finger in Lydia's general direction.

"Look, the B-man doesn't DO girlfriends. If he HAD one, he'd most certainly DO her, but he DOESN'T, _kapeesh_?!" he raged, writhing about and acting all kinds of bastard to get his point of bachelor-dom across to the whole bar - _nay_ , the whole fucking Neitherworld for that matter! Then he gave a big, manly belch and picked a roach leg from his teeth for added flourish. Yeah, totally necessary. Definitely.

The waitress rolled her eyes, sighing. "Look, I don't care who's desperate enough to let you slobber and grope all over 'em! Do you want one or two drinks?!" she growled, with that subtle hint of "I want to rip off your head and play water polo with it" in her beady eyes.

Beetlejuice stalled a moment, half pondering over if she really didn't care or if she just said she didn't care (well, he _was_ pretty fascinating, after all) , and half attempting to glare into her own scary face in an act of intimidation. Of course, the latter backfired.

Beetle averted his eyes, looking back to Lydia, all hot and drunk and surrounded by empty bottles of booze. "Errr...Gimme' two..." he muttered in defeat. He wasn't gonna lie - there was some really sinister shit in that old hag's glare. "Oh, yeah..." Beetle turned back to the waitress.

She nodded before he could speak, rolling her eyes. "I know, put it on your tab..."

"Awww, you remembered?" Beetle snarked, grinning deviously, before turning his attention back to Deetz.

His eyes traced her delicate hand tightly holding a half-empty beer bottle, her pouty lips, and her sad, brown eyes. Then he noticed all the eyes on his eyes that were on her. Damn. Was it really that obvious? Truthfully, it not only scared him, it kinda disgusted him. Not her. Not Lydia, but himself. This wasn't _him_. The old B-man would run screaming before listening to some dame's woes that he didn't give a damn about. And why wasn't he doing just that? His lips curled into a disgusted frown, as he mentally forced himself to let his balls drop and turn away. Yeah, that would show 'em all the ole' B-man was still the ghost with the most and had zero fucks to give!

"B...BJ...Is that you?" A soft, clearly wasted voice hit his gunk-filled ears, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. He froze in place, as if a rabid Kodiak bear was holding a knife to his throat. He didn't know why he'd pictured a bear. Probably cause they were really badass and manly and stuff.

Truly, he'd wanted to strut out of there and be all awesome and apathetic and shit. And most definitely he wanted to show any and every ass-licking dick eater there that he was still THE poltergeist to end all poltergeists, THE ghost with the most, THE...

"I'm...glad you're here..." that sweet, soft, very trashed voice continued.

That was the exact moment when all of his thought processes were sent a cease and desist order by Lydia-fuckin'-Deetz. "Uh...You are?" Beetlejuice turned around, totally ignoring the pleasant smirk forming on his lips.


	19. Drunken Tales

Chapter 19: Drunken Tales

"Look...I didn't mean to just run out like that..." Lydia slurred, trying her best to act like she still remembered what actual syllables sounded like. That would be the part where Beetle would normally point and laugh, but for Lydia, he witheld the urge.

In all honesty, he felt nothing but those icky feelings of sympathy for the young woman. It wasn't everday that someone was done in by their very own significant other. Well, unless he counted _himself,_ who could have, quite frankly, spent all eternity as Sandworm shit. Oh well, water over the road or whatever that old saying was.

"Eh, you had yer reasons..." he answered, glaring daggers at the old hag who was handing him his drink.

"Thanks..." Lydia politely thanked the waitress for her drink. The old woman glared at Beetlejuice accusingly, before turning back to Lydia and smiling.

"You're welcome, dear. Just let me know if you need anything. _Anything._ Even someone to walk you home if you need it." she urged, her usual snake-hiss turning to a sweet, grandmotherly chirp.

"Oh...uh, thanks..." Lydia replied, seeming puzzled by her offer, which greatly overjoyed Beetlejuice. At least Lydia didn't think he was a pure letch, and since he somehow cared about what she thought, that was awesome.

Lydia turned up her bottle, guzzling for dear life, while Beetle furrowed his brow in _not_ concern. "Uh...think you should be drinkin' that much, Babe? Booze and intense bouts of loathing don't exactly mix well. Get mah drift?"

Lydia scowled briefly, "How would you know? You're always blissfully...uh..."

"What? Handsome? Charismatic?... _Sexy_?" he grinned letcherously, though it was honestly just an act to cheer her up.

"Content." Lydia finally spit out a very diplomatic version of what she more than likely wanted to rephrase as : _Beetlejuice, you thoroughly enjoy being wasted and_ _horny. Oh, and you're stupid._

Honestly, he really wasn't content at all. "Yeah, well...If it makes ya feel any better, I ain't that happy." he blurted out before he'd realized it. Quickly realizing his mistake, he quickly began joking to make up for it. "Hey, you know what they say? Misery loves company, am I right?!" he nervously chuckled, before grabbing his drink and furiously guzzling it down along with those pesky feelings of angst and self-torment.

"REALLY?!" Lydia gasped in her alcohol fueled moment of morbid fascination, with Beetle feeling the prying eyes of those around him.

"Uh...How bout I walk ya home, Deetz?" he asked, nervously loosening his mossy collar.

"Well..." she pondered, while Beetle decided that meant "yes", and grabbed her hand.

"If you say so!" he barked loudly, dragging the staggering young woman behind.

"Where ya goin, Mr. B?" Pole-head snickered, as Lydia turned around, much to Beetle's dismay.

"I'm takin' her home. What's it to ya?" Beetle hissed, immediately giving that flamethrower idea a second thought.

Old one-arm walked over to Lydia, looking her up and down. "Hey, she's reeeal pretty, Mr. B! What's she doin' with a dirtbag like you?"

Lydia frowned slightly. "Dirtbag? Oh...He's...not REALLY that much of a dirtbag...I mean...well, maybe a LITTLE..." she slurred, using her thumb and forefinger to show just how "little" of a dirtbag he was. It was kinda sweet, actually.

While Beetle would normally tell those bitches to go fuck themselves, he decided he'd delay that inevitable departure for the sheer fact that Lydia was trying to defend him. He just _had_ to see that.

"Oh, really?" Pole-head smirked, smacking her gum. "So you're tellin' me this prick can be nice?"

"Well...yeah..." Lydia replied, a baffled look falling over her features. Beetlejuice couldn't believe what he was hearing. Lydia Deetz was admitting she thought he was nice- _ish_?

One-arm stepped in closer. "I just HAVE to hear this. Whaddya mean by nice? Now don't tell me it's gotta do with sex, cause he sure ain't no good in the sack!" she chortled, causing Beetle to growl. _Liars_.

"Oh...Well, no it's not sex..." Lydia replied, apparently caught off-guard by her remark.

"So it sucked for you, too?" Pole-head continued the less-than-pleasant interrogation.

"No, you don't...understand...We're just friends...I havent...Uh, WE haven't..." Lydia began to stumble over her words. Still friends, Beetle mentally muttered to himself. Better than nothin'. Not that it mattered anyway. Of course, he was still deeply curious to what Lydia's drunken, uninhibited self would possibly admit to, if anything.

"Oh, so Mr. B here got stuck in the friendzone! Ha! That explains everything!" Pole-head chuckled.

"Yeah, lettin' a pretty girl drag him around, bein' all nice. Lemme tell ya, sweetie, all that ends when he gets in ya pants. Then he'll only come around when he's horny. That's how it works with the unpaid help, anyway. With us, he just begs like a dog with a bone everytime he sees us." One-arm grinned maliciously at Beetle.

"You know you liked it..." he glared, grinning back in an attempt to taunt them.

"Well, she won't when she catches the clap!" Pole-head spat, now belly laughing. If only she'd laugh hard enough to suck that gum down her windpipe.

"Hey! I'm at least fifty percent sure I got that cleared up! So fuck off!" Beetle interjected, indignantly.

"It's not like that..." Lydia repeated, clearly not happy with their teasing. "I actually screwed him over...uh...not like that, either..."

Now she clearly had both women's attention. Considering the dumb bitches had an accumulative attention span of a lump of moss, that was nothing short of a miracle.

"Now I gotta hear this..." One-arm grinned, with the predatory glare of a hyena drooling over a freshly butchered zebra leg.

"Okay..." Lydia slurred, putting equal effort into both remembering and not falling face first into the concrete. "See, he tried to marry me..."

"Marry you?!" One-arm gasped.

"Well...like, a long time ago...when I was alive..."

"ALIVE?!" Pole-head choked. "Get outta here..."

"It's true!" Lydia insisted, eyes wide as saucers and nodding so furiously she'd seem right at home on the dashboard of an El Camino. "But see...Me and my friends...They're ghosts, too...My friend Barbara...She made a Sandworm eat him whole...Cause I didn't really wanna marry him...Cause he only wanted to marry me to get out of the Neitherworld...And cause he was all scary and mean...and gross..."

"Err...Maybe you should let me tell the rest, Babe. They already know about all that boring jailtime I had." Beetle interjected, hoping to cut the story really short and leave before Lydia spilled the revealing, private, potentially _illegal_ beans. Luckily, Lydia smiled and nodded, much to his relief. Man, she was trashed.

"Well?" One-arm waited expectantly for the rest of the juicy details.

"So, she broke a deal, I had her do some work for me to pay me back. That's it." he spat, before taking Lydia by the arm and attempting to lead her away. Of course, one of the hookers grabbed her other arm before he could make his escape.

"That true? He ain't, like, holdin' ya hostage or anything?" Pole-head raised a suspicious brow.

"Oh...no...not anymore..." Lydia smiled sweetly, as Beetle cringed the deepest cringe known to all existence. _Shit._

"Mmm-Hmm..." the hookers glared at Beetle, then whispered something to Lydia, who simply shook her head no.

"Unbelievable..." they tsked.

"Look, it was only until she paid me off! I ain't THAT bad! She's free now. She can do whatever the fuck she wants, WHOEVER the fuck she wants, I don't give a shit!" Beetle yelled, irately yanking Lydia from their grip. "So what if I'm fuckin' tolerable! Deal with it!" he spat, before poofing Lydia and himself away in a cloud of green smoke.


	20. Who Needs Sanity?

Chapter 20: Who Needs Sanity?

Once the sickly green haze had faded, the two were standing on Lydia's previous bridge of choice. Beetle smirked, pulling out a smoke while watching Lydia get her bearings and latch tightly onto the rail.

"Ugh...Why are we here, BJ?" Lydia groaned, rubbing what seemed to be a developing ache in her skull.

"Eh...Didn't know if you wanted to be stuck in that house again." Beetle shrugged, taking a drag off his smoke, all while feeling just a teensy bit guilty for trapping her there in the first place.

Lydia held on tightly to the rails, lowering herself until she was sitting, with her feet dangling over the strange, radiant water. Shrugging, Beetle did the same.

"I'm fine...either way...The night air is nice, though..." she sighed, staring into the rippling, probably toxic, stream.

She wasn't happy. It was obvious, and who could blame her. Her prick fiance cheated on her and then proceeded to run over her ass. Anyone would be a little peeved after that. Damn, that guy was a dumb bastard. Why anyone would let her go was a mystery to him.

Suddenly, another thought crept into his mind. "Heya...What did those broads whisper to you back there?"

"Huh? Oh..." Lydia snapped back to the present, seeming previously far away, lost in thought. And booze. "They asked me if I was lying about being free now. I said no."

"Oh. Hm." Beetle paused, another question forming in his brain. "So...You gonna be okay?"

Lydia smiled sadly, the night twinkling in her big, pretty eyes. "Yeah. It sucks, but deep down...I knew he'd been cheating all along. I guess I just didn't wanna see it until I had to. That felt worse than being hit by the car. At least _that_ was an accident...Huh...I guess I just hoped I was good enough for somebody for once..."

"Why the hell would ya say a thing like that? Fuck, you could get any guy you want. Ole' Romeo was a cockbite, plain and simple." Beetle remarked, blowing a ring of smoke in the air.

Lydia chuckled a little, surprising Beetle and causing him to raise an eyebrow as he glanced at her. "See? I told them you could be nice..."

"Hehe...Not to them, I ain't..." Beetle laughed darkly.

"Well, you are to _me_." Lydia spoke softly, her smile contagious in the strange glow of night.

"Yeah, well...I guess ex-fiance's get extra privileges." he smirked, now prodding her a little to see if she'd spit anything out. The crazy thing was that he didn't know just why he was doing this. He was leaving soon, anyway. Hell, maybe it was just to entertain the thought of it all.

Lydia laughed a little, before growing still, causing Beetlejuice to get a little antsy. "Hey, BJ?"

"Yeah?"

"Just how many fiances have you had over the years?" she asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"Ya really wanna know?" he asked, hoping she'd think it was too many to count. This was about prodding _her_ for information, anyway, and not the other way around.

"Sure...why not?" she giggled, apparently too drunk and easily amused to be intimidated. Not that she'd be intimidated in the first place. It wasn't like she wanted his skanky ass to begin with.

"Well...er..." Beetle mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "Just...uh...one."

He watched, feeling strangely tense when waiting for her reaction. Lydia paused a moment, before smiling. Well, that was different.

"Wow. I figured you to have like...well over a hundred ex-fiance's by now. I guess I hoped I wouldn't be alone...I am pretty dumb, huh?" she shook her head, laughing good naturedly at herself.

That still didn't sit well with Beetlejuice, who knew her well enough to know that she partly meant it. "Nah, not dumb. I'm just the bastard who took advantage of a desperate chick in a bad situation. Not exactly mah finest hour."

"Yeah, well...I still made a deal. And you got eaten by a Sandworm...I should've kept my end of the bargain. I should've just called on you before I went stalking after Eugene. At least I could've been useful to somebody." she sighed.

Damn, he felt like shit right about now. Her last dying wish would be to carry out a bargain to him?! Him, the nasty asshat that got her powers taken away in the first place? The dickmunch that kept her away from her family and really lame ghost friends? Who trapped her with him? All while she'd spent the afterlife repeatedly blaming herself? He was a monster.

That was it. If everybody had a breaking point, this was apparently his. Beetle sighed, "Look...It's for the best, Lydia. You didn't deserve it. None of it. I used to think so, but I was an idiot. That's why I'm alone and no one gives a shit about me. I'm glad we didn't get hitched, Babe. And it sure as hell ain't cause of you. You're fuckin' perfect. Hell, I'd marry ya today if I could..." he suddenly trailed off, the horror of what he'd just admitted coursing through his undead veins at break-neck speeds. What kind of holy terror did he just unleash? This was supposed to be HER admittance, HER feelings, HIS satisfaction. _Fuck._

There he was, frozen like a squirrel fried to a power line. Fortunately, however, he'd forgotten to account for the holy grail of all things in his favor: vast, flooding, copious amounts of booze flowing through Lydia Deetz' veins. Booze had never failed him in the past, and hopefully, it wouldn't fail him now.

Beetlejuice moved his eyes, noting that her own were now lazy and half-lidded, as she herself looked ready for the inevitable defeat of intoxication. Of course, bound and determined to make him suffer with her sweet, sticky, niceness, she smiled warmly at him.

"That's sweet...of you...B...J..." she held on, with him secretly hoping she'd either pass out or he'd drop dead. Again.

With what seemed like a glimmer of hope, he watched her lean forward as he deviously grinned. He reached out, waiting for her to pass out, where he could ship her ass home and wait for her to wake up and not remember all this emotional garbage he'd spewed like a pubescent teenaged girl. Unfortunately, Lydia was a sneaky one, and she held the most powerful, drunken move to permanently fuck his world up. Forever.

She kissed him. On the mouth - like tongue and everything. Eyes wide, he was completely mortified. It wasn't like it was bad. No, quite the opposite. It was good. Like really, unbelievably good. It was the best thing in all the realms of existence. But she was super drunk. She was Lydia, for crying out loud, and he was leaving to the other side, and she probably had no idea what she was doing. She didn't mean it anyway, right?

So he did the unthinkable. _He pulled away_. Him. Beetlejuice: the ghost with the most, self-proclaimed canoodler of hookers and slapper of asses - actually pulled away from the physical affection of the hottest chick he'd ever seen. Then she proceeded to finish passing out into his arms, where he poofed them both back to the Roadhouse.

It was at that point he realized that testicles were not the only thing he'd lost. He was pretty sure his mind was fucked, too.


	21. Aftershock

Chapter 21: Aftershock

Beetlejuice sat at his kitchen table, nervously sipping on a giant mug of coffee and trying to hold his newspaper steady enough to properly read the obituaries. He hadn't slept all night, his eyes were even darker than they normally were (and he was dead, for crying out loud), and he was pretty sure he'd developed about fifty nervous twitches in the span of about twelve hours. Needless to say, Lydia Deets was having a bit of an effect on him lately.

He heard the his bedroom door creak from the far end of the house, causing him to nearly scald his junk with a big splash of piping hot premium roast. With each soft footstep, he could feel his insides wind up tighter. What was he gonna do if she remembered? Would she be disgusted that she'd had a severe case of beer goggle vision and he was the unfortunate result?

Truthfully, that was the lesser of two possible evils - the other being that she did mean it. Then he'd have no choice but to either force himself to carry out his normally heinous plan or stay with her.

Either way he was sick, sleep deprived, completely not himself, and pretty sure he was in love with the girl, which was like a cruel, divine punishment from the powers of the Neitherworld. He was pretty sure the next step after that would be a one way elevator ride to hell.

"Hey BJ..." Lydia stepped into the kitchen, shielding her eyes from the light. "Uh...You wouldn't mind if I had a cup of that, would you? My head is killing me."

"Uh..." he lowered his newspaper, now staring at her like she had three eyes. Somehow, the way she was all squinty and irritated became way more majestic than usual. It was literally like she could do no wrong, like she was a powerful siren, or a goddess...

"BJ? You okay?" Lydia interrupted his really creepy, admiring thoughts.

"Oh, yeah, sure. Me too." Beetle spat, half brain-dead at that point.

"What?" Lydia furrowed her brow.

"Oh, yeah, coffee." he smacked his forehead, trying to shake off the new, highly potent drug known as Lydia Deetz. A large mug of coffee appeared in front of her, while he made some lame excuse for his acute weirdness. "I'm hungover, too." he spoke in the least believable voice in the existence of anything.

"Oh. Yeah, sorry about last night. I guess I was pretty wasted. The last thing I remember was being at that bar. Then you showed up. Thanks for taking me home." she smiled warmly, and his insides turned to gross, mushy love goo.

"No problem. Anytime. Anytime at all, any problem ya got, you just call on the B-man, you know?" he rambled, realizing he sounded like some psychotic help hotline. Then he proceeded to firmly shut his yap.

"You _sure_ you're okay, BJ?" Lydia's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Oh, she was too smart for any of his dumb shit. "You're not acting right. What exactly happened last night?"

Just when Beetlejuice thought that he'd been cornered, little Miss Deetz allowed him a bit of wiggle room with her own inquiries.

"All that weird helpfulness...Oh, god. Did I get all depressed and sappy about Eugene at the bar?" Lydia asked, externally cringing.

That was his moment. Deetz didn't remember a thing. He could lay all of the blame on her, then he could safely stuff down that disgusting "love" feeling. Repression was the gold standard of denial, but hey, he'd settle for good old supression any day of the week.

"I'm afraid so, Deetz. You were all crying and blubberin' and shit. I had to drag you home cause you wanted to go find Eugene and make up with him. I made you stay though. Knew you'd come to yer senses and shit. Good friend, huh?" Beetle grinned slyly, feeling the old, malicious tickle of pre-love Beetle float back in.

"God, how embarrassing...Ugh. Remind me not to get trashed again." Lydia stood, before promptly walking over and giving Beetlejuice a big ole' hug around the neck. It was all platonic, on her side at least. For him, it was freaking _torture._

"Hehe...Yeah. I'll do that." he replied, trying not to be all weird again.

"It's insane what a person will do when under the influence. If anything, I'd like to give him a piece of my mind. Asshole." Lydia muttered, sitting back down to finish her coffee.

Immediately, Beetle sensed a wonderful opportunity to wreak a little havoc on the prick that both broke Lydia's heart and ran her over. He totally needed to raise some hell at that point - to be his _old_ self. That was the perfect excuse. Who cared about that nagging feeling of jealousy and vengeance brought about by his angsty, trashy romance novel love?

"I can arrange that, ya know." Beetle grinned deviously, his brows raised in hope.

"It's...certainly _tempting.._." Lydia muttered, clearly intrigued by the idea. "I just wouldn't want him physically harmed or anything. Maybe a good scare. You know, make him feel really bad for turning me into roadkill." she grinned slyly.

For now, he would ignore the fact that her mean streak was sexy as hell and focus on the task at hand. "So, do we have a date?" he grinned broadly, sneaking a sly hint in for fun - and maybe some weird, delirious hope that he definitely did not experience. Nope.

"Haha...Yeah, it's a date." she smiled, and Beetlejuice was quite sure he didn't feel that nasty butterfly feeling in his stomach one bit.


	22. Rude Awakenings

Chapter 22: Rude Awakenings

"BJ, are you sure this is the right place?" Lydia asked, her voice hushed as she crept behind Beetle toward what seemed to be a delapidated apartment complex.

"Oh, it's right...Believe me...I had access to all Dipshit's info, remember?" Beetle's voice turned a bit dark, alerting Lydia to the fact that this agreement to scare the shit out of Eugene may not have been her most lucid decision. Beetlejuice was unpredictable, after all. However, despite the loose cannon that she was currently following, a part of her wasn't really concerned with the risks involved. That man deserved at least a teensy pinch of the insane poltergeist's wrath, to say the least. Besides, Eugene was already dead, so it wasn't like Beetle could off him again. Or could he?

Biting her lip in reaction to the worry forming inside of herself, she shook said doubts away when Beetle motioned her to come closer. Of course, the doubts began to form once more when Lydia noticed just how dark and devious Beetle's expression had become. Though his demeanor was usually, for the most part, benign and obnoxious (and strangely very tolerable as of late), Lydia began to remember just how much of a menace Beetlejuice could truly be. To stir in an added dose of worry, she began to feel a heaviness to the air as she stepped up to the ghost. "Okay...We're here...Now what?" she asked nervously, noting just how intimidating Beetle had become in an instant. Holy shit, what was he going to do? Would they both end up in Neitherworld prison after tonight? Hopefully not.

Beetle's face curled into an expression that Lydia couldn't quite read. It was, well... _weird._ Like a cat biting into an electric wire. Or a mentally incapacitated hobo. Either way, it was that special brand of deranged that only he could pull off. "Well, you just follow me, Babe. I'll do all the heavy lifting, so-to-speak, and you, Sugarlips, can sit back and enjoy the ride."

"Sugarlips? Heh...That's a new one..." Lydia commented, amused by his ever-increasing list of nicknames for her. He was such a weirdo sometimes.

"Yer...Well...Whatever. I say shit all the time. Doesn't _mean_ anything, Deetz." Beetle remarked, seeming almost... _defensive_? _That was strange_ , Lydia mused. "Look, do ya wanna see Fuckwad piss his pants or not?" Beetle snapped, placing a hand on his hip in what seemed to be irritation.

The last thing Lydia wanted to do was piss Beetlejuice off right before he was about to indulge in a healthy dose of havoc. "Sorry...I'm just nervous..." she admitted, watching his stance fall slack and his manic expression soften. It was the truth, really. Not only because of Beetle's tendency to be, well, crazy, but because of the fact that she'd be seeing her ex for the first time since she'd had a pulse. That was some truly distressing stuff, and the memory of her living experience with Eugene still weighed heavy on her soul.

"Eh, don't worry about it, Deetz." Beetle muttered, gazing down at a large fly scurrying on the busted pavement.

Lydia nodded, eyeing the old apartment complex, which looked worse for wear - like practically everything else in the afterlife. "So...That's it. You just want me to follow you. In there." she replied, pointing toward their target.

"Well...yeah. How else are ya supposed to see Eugene in all his glory?" Beetle asked, making sure to lace the question with an extra dose of smart-ass.

Lydia rolled her eyes, smirking that Beetle seemed to hate the man so much, despite the fact he'd never really met the guy. It was almost sweet. Almost. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I have shitty taste in men. So sue me." she shrugged.

"Heh, wouldn't do me any good, Babe. Yer broke as hell." Beetle snorted, before oddly pausing and shooting her a telling look. "An' yer taste in menfolk ain't _so_ bad. Remember, Dollface, you were once engaged to the most eligible bachelor in the Neitherworld. Can't do any better than that." he stated, waggling his eyebrows.

"Apparently not..." she remarked, knowing that her feigned disgust would get a rise out of him. Truthfully, however, he really wasn't _that_ bad. Sure he may have been lewd, and annoying, and disgusting pretty much all the time, but he was good company. Hell, she'd already internally pleaded insanity long ago, so it wasn't much of a stretch to mentally admit she just plain enjoyed the guy. Being stuck with Beetlejuice wasn't the worst thing that could happen. Yeah, she was pretty fucking crazy.

She sniggered as Beetle glared a hole through her head. "Real funny, Deetz..." he muttered, his mood teetering between _hehe smartass_ and _say one more word an' I'll juice yer trap shut._ Lydia did not wish for the latter to come to fruition, therefore she stopped her teasing. He was helping her after all. She didn't need to push it.

"Teasing, BJ! I'm teasing! It's a joke!" she giggled, watching the poltergeist cross his arms impatiently.

"Pffft...Whatever. C'mon, Deetz, before I change my mind..." he grumbled. Lydia nodded, suppressing the urge to grin.

 _To be such a loudmouth, BJ can be quiet when he wants to,_ Lydia mused, following his shadowy form down a dim corridor. She swallowed, feeling a mixture of fear and anticipation. A part of her wondered just what Beetle was going to pull off to traumatize Eugene, while a more unsettling aspect of herself feared seeing her ex and reliving the hurt and rejection he'd thrown upon her.

"Twenty-one...twenty-two...Ah, jackpot...Here she is, Deetz. Room number twenty-three! Loverboy and Bimbo's residence!" Beetle grinned devilishly, rubbing his grimy hands together in contentment.

A sharp pang rose up in Lydia's chest, causing her hand to fall there in reaction to it. "Uh, you mean he lives with _her?"_ she nearly gasped, while simultaneously hating herself for having such a large reaction.

Beetle snorted, eyeing the door while seeming disgusted. "Heh...Talk about a downgrade..."

"Oh...uh...yeah. Eugene used to live in a really pinky-up neighborhood. This place is a dump..." Lydia mumbled, her mind rattled by the situation.

Beetle's face wrinkled into a bewildered expression, looking at her as if she had grown an extra appendage. "Not the apartment, Babe. I'm talkin' about the broad he's porkin'! Geez, Deetz! You wouldn't know a compliment if it climbed up an' bit ya on the ass!"

Lydia's mouth gaped open just a bit, finding herself caught off-guard by his comments. While it was sweet of him to say such kind things, being so near to Eugene at this point had deeply stifled her ability to be confident. Perhaps there was a reason she wasn't good enough for her ex. Perhaps this woman was better. "BJ...You don't have to be nice to me. It's okay. I can take it." she spoke, her pain seeping into her voice.

At her words, Beetle began to glare, apparently not pleased with her self-loathing tone. "Who the fuck said I was bein' nice? Deetz, you've seen enough to know I don't do nice. The B-man ain't fuckin' _nice_..."

Lydia eyed him a moment, and if it wasn't for the flood of pain, regret, and sorrow running through her undead veins, she'd be fascinated by his current behavior. However, her history came pouring back in with a vengeance. The feelings of being intoxicated in love with someone so unattainable, and that someone crushing her heart and killing her spirit in both senses of the word. Normal, level-headed Lydia would have been able to see it for what it was, but this wasn't normal, and it sure as hell wasn't emotionally stable. "Yeah, but you're nice to me. Look, you don't have to try and make me feel better, okay? I probably didn't meet his standards...She probably is better...I just need to face reality." she shrugged, tears forming in her eyes.

"What?! What the fuck, Deetz?" Beetle growled, exasperated. "I ain't tryin' to make yer ass feel better, Lydia! I'm telling you the truth! You are better than some dumbass broad! He's the dumb twat that left a chick like you! I don't know why the fuck yer about to cry over the bastard!" he hissed, looking completely irate. Lydia had no idea why he even cared so much about the matter. It was her deal, anyway. She simply froze, watching as he stepped up to her, narrowing his eyes.

"Wait...just...one...minute...Don't tell me you still got feelings for that miserable sack of shit! You do, don't you?" he seethed, grabbing her shoulders and causing her to feel incredibly uneasy. Just why was this happening?

"BJ...I-I don't understand..." she whimpered, halfway between fear and sorrow.

"Don't give me that horseshit, Deetz! Don't pretend you don't know...You know EXACTLY why I don't like that little prick. And you sure as hell know why I don't like you liking him! Quit playin' games with my ass! You KNOW! You HAVE to know! Hell, the whole fuckin' Neitherworld seems to know it, so don't tell me you're freakin' oblivious!" he hissed, his grip tightening just enough for her to feel pressure, yet not enough to actually hurt. If anything hurt, it was her tangled emotions. Just what was he trying to say? He was about as predictable as the lottery. And her chances of guessing right about him were about the same as winning it. He flip-flopped between emotions so much that he could make a sport out of it.

"Well...I don't know. I have no idea. I can barely think straight right now." she strained, looking straight into his frustrated glare.

"Errr...Ya really don't know, do ya..." Beetle's glare softened as he studied her face. "Well, I'll gladly inform you, _Buttercup_." he hissed, sarcasm thick in his voice. "I wasn't gonna say this, but yer bein' stupid as fuck, an' desperate times call for desperate measures." he continued, pulling her closer, their faces only inches apart. "In case you hadn't noticed, I think yer the shit, Lydia Deetz! Fuckin' perfection, okay?! There! You made me say this shit, so don't go feelin' all weird on me later for it! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna show this son of a bitch just how bad he fucked up when he fucked with you!" he growled, releasing her abruptly and causing her to stumble back in shock.

"And without further 'ado..." he grinned menacingly, his striped suit changing into a ratty gray suit and tie, while a dusty old briefcase formed in his hand. He turned to Lydia. "You can watch it or not, but he's still gettin' his just desserts. Bon' Appetit!" he snarled, before knocking on Eugene's door.

Lydia could only stand there, wide-eyed and full of shock as a tall, voluptuous bleached blonde opened the entrance. _What the actual fuck was happening?_


	23. A Deal is a Deal

Chapter 23: A Deal is a Deal

"Well, helloooo there..." Beetle drawled in the best douchebag perv voice he could muster, all the while blatantly ogling the blonde woman's cans and hoping she'd be thoroughly pissed by such a display. If there was one thing Beetlejuice knew, it was that he was pretty damn good at pissing off people, both living and dead, and women were his particular area of expertise in this field. Hell, he was practically the MVP of old creepy perverts, and by god he hadn't earned it for no reason! What could he say? He was passionate about his endeavors.

He leered, watching the woman's caked face twist into an expression of general displeasure and disgust that he'd seen on many a hookers' face at one time or another. She quickly took a step back, her red stilettos clacking harshly on the floor. _Good,_ Beetlejuice thought. _Bitch is already squirmin'._

"Yes? Can I help you?" she asked flatly, arms defensively crossed over her chest, glaring daggers at him for the offense. Oh yeah, he remembered _that look._ It was pretty damned hot. If Deetz hadn't been right behind him being a thousand times hotter, better, and somehow able to place both his testicles in a vice grip and crunch the manhood out of him, he'd have probably propositioned the broad right then and there. Then he considered Lydia. Discreetly, he glanced out of the corner of his eye to see if maybe...just _maybe..._ she was a teensy, weensy bit jealous. To his dismay, she appeared blank and expressionless. Shocked, even. Regardless, like the great pioneer that he was, Beetle ventured forward.

"Heh, nah. Nope. Negative. Not really." he remarked, taking an intruding step closer to the woman and leaning against the doorway. He snickered as she stepped further back into her apartment. "But I can most certainly help _you_! Now, if you'll just give the ole' B-man one miniscule iota of your time, he'll show you just how he plans to do that!" he chuckled, patting his briefcase, and knocking about an inch of grave dirt off of it. The woman watched with a look of displeasure as the nasty clump unceremoniously splatted on the floor.

"Heh, sorry 'bout that." Beetle snorted, purposely kicking the dirt further into the apartment, while pretending to attempt to push it out of the way.

"Excuse me, but just WHAT are you helping me with?" the woman asked, already exasperated.

"Well, Sweetcheeks, I'm just DYIN' to tell ya!" he chimed, allowing himself in and seating himself on a nearby sofa.

He unlatched the buckles on his briefcase, chuckling to himself menacingly, and glancing at her from time to time. The blonde looked to the doorway, before speaking again. "...Is that girl with you?"

Shit, he'd forgotten about Deetz! She was currently still standing in the hallway, wringing her hands nervously. "Uh, yeah. She's my...uh.. _.assistant._..Yeah." Beetle muttered, definitely not sounding lame at all. Yeah.

The bimbo sighed, rolling her eyes and rudely motioning for Lydia to come in as well. _Bitch. If ole' Funbags thought she could be shitty to Lydia, she had another thing comin'._ Beetlejuice grinned wider as Deetz quietly sat beside him. He glanced to his side, noting just how miserable Lydia appeared. Like on the verge of tears miserable. Surely she wasn't going to sob over that shit stain right in the middle of his awesome plan to traumatize the fucker, which was technically really HER idea instead of his in the first freakin' place! Of course, the awesomeness was still definitely _his_ contribution.

Unable to hold back his frustrations, he turned and scowled at Lydia. "Really, Deetz? Now?! What's yer freakin' problem?" he growled under his breath.

"Nothing!" she gasped, her eyes wide, as if she knew she'd been caught in the act of sulking. She quickly straightened, pretending to not be thinking of what she was definitely thinking of, and that, of course, didn't fool the ole B-man. And because it didn't fool his self-proclaimed razor sharp intellect, he let her know by shooting her his best _yeah right you were totally thinkin' about Sir Broke Dick, so don't try and hide it now_ look.

"Eh-hem!" Beetle found himself jolted back to the situation at hand by the less-than-pleasing screech of the impatient bimbo that stood, glaring daggers through his head. Beetle simply grinned all big and toothy like. Hell, he'd seen that look on a woman's face over a million times. He wasn't scared of it. Much.

"Ah, yes...A'course..." Beetle held his smile, taking out a stack of dusty papers, causing both women to cough simultaneously as he blew said dust off of them and in the particular direction of Blondie's face. "What I'm here to offer ya this fine mornin'-"

"Morning? It's late! It's like three a.m.!" Blondie hissed in protest, amid her coughs.

"Nah, Toots! That's early! What can I say? I'm pretty damned good at mah job!" he bragged, straightening the papers on the coffee table in front of him.

"Fine! Just get on with it already!" the woman groaned, the bitchiness in her voice causing Beetle's face to twitch ever so slightly.

"Oh, of course m'lady..." he snorted, straightening his ratty bowtie and standing. "What I'm offering to you is a complete and total bargain, a deal, a once in an afterlife time offer! It's practical, logical, and damned if it ain't sold by the sexiest assed ghost in the Neitherword on top a that!"

To that, the blonde scoffed, looking to Lydia. "Her?"

"What? Hell no! I meant _me_!" Beetle licked his lips and popped out his ass just a bit to allow her to admire. And admire she did! She may have tried to hide it by the way her face wrinkled in complete and utter repulsion, but he knew deep down she couldn't resist his prime cut hams.

"What the B-man is offerin', is a one-shot chance for this specialized, testified, certified, one hundred percent not from concentrate Death Insurance for the Formerly Living!" he spoke with much vigor, or what some laymen may have referred to as yelling.

The broad placed her hands firmly on her hips, scowling. "And just why the hell would I need that?"

"Why the hell not?" Beetle barked irritably, his hidden anger causing all of the lights to suddenly dim while he wondered just where this Eugene douchebag was hiding. "Eh-herm...Allow me to show you..." Shit, he didn't know what he was gonna do without that asshat. "Er...As soon as I ask a teensy little question. Where is the man of the house?"

"He just came home from work before you came barging in! Just why do you need him, anyway?" Blondie growled, irritated.

"Because, my dear, I'll need both yer John Hancock's to seal the deal! Won't work otherwise." he spoke, feigning his plastered on smile and fighting the urge to throw her out a nearby window just for his amusement. Damn, his face was starting to ache.

"And what if I don't want your shitty insurance?" the blonde rattled on, making Beetlejuice bristle a bit on the inside. Of course, he wouldn't take his irritation out on her directly. He'd use someone else to do that. "I do have the right to say no." she spat, indignantly.

"Ah, nice tits AND smart!" Beetle remarked quickly.

"What did you sa-" the blonde woman began only to be interrupted by him once more.

"Lydia? Would you care to explain?" he asked, in mock-formality.

Lydia frowned, puzzled, as he used his power to pull her up from her seat and use her as a human puppet. Only for a second though.

Lydia's eyes grew wide, as she began to speak, pulling a dusty old manual out of thin air, licking her finger, and turning to a random page. "Handbook for the Recently Deceased: chapter 9, paragraph 6, section A. states that it is required by statute of the Neitherworld Powers That Be that any and all unliving entities occupying said realm should possess some form of insurance upon their undead souls. Failure to do so could result in permanent removal should an exorcism occur. Reversal of soul removal is based on insurance plan and carrier. Individuals without will not be allowed to appeal departure based on exorcism." Beetle spoke quickly through her, then he made her toss the book to the side and purposely break a lamp in the corner with it. After briefly enjoying the pissed look on Blondie's face from said action, he made Deetz do a ridiculous courtesy before seating herself. Served her right for crying over reject Rico Suave.

As he released his hold on Deetz, he sniggered as she glared at him in annoyance, which somehow pleased him greatly. He then turned back to Blondie. "So? What'll it be, Toots?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll get him." she surrendered, before clacking off into a hallway and disappearing briefly.

"Next time how about a heads up before you do your ventriloquist act on me!" Lydia hissed angrily, causing him to whip around and seethe instantly in reaction to her.

"Next time why don't you give ME the heads up when you decide to cry over that deadbeat that YOU wanted to torment in the first place, BABE!" Beetle growled, matching Lydia's scowl with a better, scowly-er one of his own.

He watched through narrowed eyes as she quickly turned away, sighing. He almost felt a little bad, until the sounds of clacking heels were drawing near, followed by another set of heavier footsteps. _About damned time,_ Beetle thought.

"Ugh, here they are, Eugene..." the broad came into sight followed by a tall, slim man with hipster prick clothes and a ponytail. Geez, Deetz did have awful taste, with the exception of _himself_ , of course.

Beetle stifled back the urge to send a horde of crabs into their underwear and simply stepped forward. He stepped up to Eugene, hocked a giant loogey, spit it in his own hand, and offered Lydia's ex a polite handshake with it. "Nice to meetcha, Ulysses! Just call me the B-man!"

Eugene stepped back a bit, but Beetle grabbed his free hand anyway, shaking it and giving it a nice, suffocating grip for good measure. The man winced, causing Beetle's insides to squeal with joy.

Eugene was finally able to wrestle his hand away from Beetle's grasp and wipe it on his pants. "Uh...It's Eugene. And...Hey, haven't I seen your picture at the Bloody Mary?" he asked Beetlejuice, catching him off guard.

"Why? What's it to ya?" Beetle's eyes narrowed, wondering just what this prick was on to.

"Oh, I started as a DJ there not long ago. Your photo's on the unpaid tabs list. Aren't you that guy that got kicked out like five times for getting grabby with -" he began.

"THREE times, okay?! And what dipshit actually _pays_ for booze? I can zap my own shit into existence for free! And believe me, it's much better than that weak ass piss that shithole peddles as alcohol!" Beetlejuice interejected wildly, before catching himself openly being a huge douchebag.

He cleared his throat, before straightening and returning to his previous strategy. "Oops, hehe. Sorry, the B-man gets a bit touchy when it comes to his personal life. Heh heh. Uri, you know how it is bein' a workin' fella! Always a struggle keepin' the pleasure and the business separate! But that's beside the point. As much as I'd love to talk about mahself, and believe me, I'd love to, I'm not here to do that. I'm here to share with you the pure, blissful, unadulterated, mandatory pleasures of insurance!"

"Eugene. It's EUGENE. And I'm not really interested in-" Eugene began, before being interrupted by the blonde.

"He practically told me we don't have a choice." Blondie interrupted, her expression clearly not amused. "The handbook says we could be permanently exorcised if we don't get the insurance to help prevent it."

"How will insurance prevent it?" What's his name yammered on, causing Beetle to grow impatient.

"I don't know! But if we don't get it, it's a one way ticket out of here!" Blondie screeched. Damn, why that douche nozzle would ever choose THAT over Lydia was beyond him.

"Yeah...and just what are the chances of that happening? I mean, we aren't haunting anything. We have nothing to do with the other side! Sounds completely useless and unnecessary to me..." _Shit_. He didn't figure the guy to have a halfway functioning brainstem, let alone use basic logic not to sign his papers. And he needed their signatures for his little surprise, and thus he cooked up a nice little backup plan.

Beetlejuice smirked, looking to Lydia, who seemed to be wearing her signature _what the fuck are you gonna do this time_ look. "Eh-hem! Allow my assistant to explain. She had a REALLY shitty experience. Nearly banished into oblivion herself! Right, Deetz?" Beetle inquired, hoping she'd quit staring like a deer in the headlights and play along with his ruse.

Lydia stepped forward, and much to Beetle's disdain, she froze when Ebert or whatever his name actually noticed her presence. "Uh..."

"L-Lydia? W-what are you doing here?" he stammered, wide-eyed and full of shock.

"Uh..." she mumbled, glancing at Beetle who glared in return, making sure to get his point across that she'd better play along and quit stalling. Geez, just what kind of power did that asshat have over her?

"I'm uh...doing my job." she lied, giving Beetle a tentative glance. "Well, I do live here in the Neitherworld, too. I thought you'd known that."

"Well, yeah. I just didn't expect to actually SEE you again." he said smugly. At his words, Beetle determined that he was now officially pissed. Who was that arrogant bastard to talk to Lydia like that? If anyone was gonna be a douche to her, it was HIM because he had every right to be. She'd doubled crossed HIM, cheated HIM, left HIM to a fate as Sandworm shit! And hell, Beetle didn't even care about that bullshit anymore! But this guy was a real piece of work! Abandoning Lydia, cheating on her ass, mowing her down with a car, and then being a big jackass about it? No siree. Not today.

"You mean you didn't even look for me?" Lydia nearly gasped, causing a new form of anger to run through Beetle like hot molten lava.

"Eugene? Who the fuck is this?" the blonde bimbo began, her eyes narrowing on Lydia's ex with suspicions of her own.

"Well..." the dirtbag began, before Beetle intervened, using Deetz as his personal marionette once more.

"Nevermind." he forced her to say, noting that her eyes were wide and shocked. "We don't actually require that you say yes to our offer." she spit out, as he forced her to grab his stack of papers and sift through them, finding a new one he'd placed in there.

"Ah, here it is!" he forced Deetz to exclaim with much ferver, just for the hell of it. Beetle smiled deviously, his wild eyes shifting between the two knuckleheads and the nice little gift they were about to place their names upon. "If you'd like to refuse Death Insurance at this current time, you have the legal right to do so. All you have to do is sign this mandatory waiver stating that you've been informed of the implications of not having a policy, and that in the unlikely chance that you're banished from this realm via exorcism, that you agree to not contest the banishment." Beetle stated through Lydia, while materializing a big, gawdy quill in her hand.

"So...Now that you intellecutal, highly informed young individuals know all that there is to know...Whaddya say?" Beetlejuice grinned, rubbing his hands together menacingly.

"Yeah Eugene...What DO you have to say?" Blondie glared at him, and Beetle watched in glee as the man full-on pussed out right in front of him.

"Look...It's nothing, Baby..." he said nervously, holding up his hands in protest.

"You mean... _I'm_ nothing..." Lydia muttered, her eyes all big and weepy.

 _This is bullshit._ Beetle nearly growled, stepping over to Lydia. He was NOT gonna deal with this shit. He was NOT about to do what he did best upon HER request, and just have her bitch and cry about it. He was NOT gonna confess his mushy-assed feelings to a chick just to have her kick him in the balls. And he was DEFINITELY NOT going to lose his freedom, however temporary, to some weepy-ass, former goth wannabe, miss jump off a bridge who still wasn't over some dude who'd her killed her ass.

"Better watch it, Deetz..." he hissed a warning in her ear, so his potential prisoners wouldn't hear.

Lydia turned to him, tears forming in her eyes. Her expression was forlorn and hopeless. She barely acknowledged his warning before turning back to her former lover.

"Well, it doesn't seem like nothing, Eugene. Who is she?" Bimbo shrieked.

"Uh..." Whatshisname trailed off, before coming to his stupid-as-fuck best attempt to lie. "Look, she was just some crazy chick I dumped before I got with you, okay? I didn't know she was still stalking me!"

"Really, that's it?" Blondie asked, hanging on to his every word.

"Yes, _really!_ " he replied, being the pussy-whipped motherfucker that he was.

Beetle stood, partially mortified as his chances of not only wreaking havoc, but of everything as a whole began to fall apart - especially Deetz. Go figure. He gritted his teeth as Lydia began to speak again, aiming to continue the argument.

"DEETZ, WE GOTTA JOB TA DO 'ERE!" Beetle yelled at her, causing the lights to dim as he began to lose his temper.

It was at that moment, that Lydia's eyes grew wide and wild. She curled her lip in a bitter scowl, before letting it fly. "BETLEGUESE, WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?! THIS DOESN'T CONCERN YOU!"

 _Oh no she didn't_. _She didn't just say the name._ Beetle was sure he felt his eye begin to twitch. He licked his lips menacingly, before drawing so near to her that their foreheads were nearly touching. "Wrong answer, little girl..." he growled darkly.

Lydia's face twisted in confusion, before he forced more words out of her mouth, also forcing her to straighten and grin like the fool that she was. "Yes, he's totally right! I'm a one hundred percent stalker, for sure! He didn't want me when I was alive, but I stalked him anyway and got myself turned into roadkill! He sure as fuck doesn't want me now, so I think I'll do myself a favor and shut the fuck up!" he made her say, watching a tear roll down her cheek as he lashed out at her.

Too angry to feel guilty for taunting her, Beetle made her continue to further his plan. She was the one who wanted this shitshow, and her stupid-ass feelings weren't getting in the way of it! He was SICK of playing fucking house with someone who didn't give a rat's ass about him, just like the rest of the Neitherworld! Good riddance! At least he could quit lollygagging and staying in the Neitherworld waiting around for Lydia Deetz with his dick in the dirt and his head up her ass! He'd have his fun, then he'd be out!

Feeding on his inner-rage, he continued. "Now, if you two would please sign this waiver, we'll be on our way and you'll never have to look at us again!" he forced her to say, holding the waiver in her trembling hand.

Everything grew silent for an eerily long period of time. Blondie finally sighed, glaring at Lydia, before turning back to Lydia's ex. "Fine...Let's just sign this and get these crazy people out of here..." she spoke, exasperated, while Lydia's ex nodded in agreement, just to save his own ass.

Lydia handed the ridiculously large quill over to Beetle's willing victims, her hand still trembling. And as each dimwit signed the dotted line, binding their souls to the agreement, said agreement had subtly changed, unbeknownst to them, in Beetlejuice's favor.

Beetle took the agreement, the paper dissolving in his hands and sealing his deal. "Hehehe...Real nice doin' business with you folks..." he laughed heinously, as the room began to grow dark, and thick, suffocating smoke began to fill the air. His two prisoners began to back up in reaction to the unsettling experiece, until he juiced a large ball and chain to each of their legs, halting their movement and causing Bimbo to yelp.

"W-what are you doing?!" Loverboy whimpered like the sniveling little bitch that he was.

"Well, Umberto, I'm doin' what any good businessman would do. I'm a honorin' mah agreement!"


	24. Glorious Havoc

Chapter 24: Glorious Havoc

Lydia watched in horror as thousands of snakes and spiders began to crawl from every crevice. Insects began to scurry down from the ceiling at a frightening pace. Her lip quivering, she wiped at her eyes, backing away from the horrific plague that was forming in front of her. She backed away, tripping over the coffee table and landing back into the sofa, watching in horror as Eugene and his blonde girlfriend became surrounded by the creeping terror.

Beetle laughed maniacally, as his team of disgusting creatures intertwined, crawling in unison, and solidifying around the two helpless ghosts, forming two strange cages around their victims.

"There!" Beetle snapped, as his pests solidified, turning to stone.

Lydia gulped, watching the two of them weep and whimper, locked in Beetle's prison. This wasn't at all what she'd expected or wanted. She just wanted to scare Eugene and be done with it. She didn't expect her own feelings to be vomited back up in the process. She briefly glanced at Beetle, who was currently pacing around his cages with much pride, chuckling delightfully in the process. _And she sure as hell didn't expect him to have anything resembling legitimate feelings, let alone for HER!_ And now he was, without a doubt, very pissed at her for something she didn't expect, let alone think about! Talk about a mess...

She watched him unconsciously while thoughts went running wildly through her head. She quickly glanced away when he turned, his glaring green eyes making contact with her own.

Lydia tried to look distracted while he paused, continuing to burn a hole through her with his eyes. Disturbingly enough, he began to hum to himself, as she stared at the broken lamp in the floor, listening to the sound of him striking a match. The smell of smoke filled the air as the sound of his footsteps drew closer to her.

"What is it, Deetz? I help you scare the shit outta this loser and now you're too good to look at me?" his gruff voice hit her ears, causing a chill to travel up her undead spine.

Lydia inhaled, and turned to him, a part of her afraid of his unpredictability, and the other part simply embarrassed that the asshole had made her cry over the other asshole. "No. Are you finished now?" she asked dryly, partly out of spite. Why did he have to be such a dick? Why was everything so extreme with him, anyway? Either Beetlejuice was a hysterical mess with the morality of a used car salesman, or he was a scary, tempermental prick. The former had been easy enough to tolerate, and hell, even consider as a friend. Of course, the latter was a nightmare, plain and simple.

He kneeled down, blowing smoke into her face as he spoke. On purpose, of course. "Heh heh heh...Yer funny, Deetz. _Reeeaal_ funny...You were wantin' him scared. Mission accomplished." he grinned slyly, gesturing to the cages, where Eugene was still whimpering. "But that ain't what's in the contract, Babe..."

"What do you mean?" Lydia furrowed her brow, a sinking feeling forming inside of her.

Beetle took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing it in her face again, causing her to cough furiously. "See for yerself." he chuckled, standing and pulling the contract from thin air. He threw it to Lydia, who fumbled it a bit, caught off guard by his menacing demeanor.

As she opened it and began to read, she became horrified by what Beetle had placed in there. "Your prisoners _forever_? You give yourself permission to do with them as you please? Are you serious?" she asked, dumbstruck by the absurdity of it all.

"Yup." he grinned, seeming proud of his strupid trick.

"But why?" Lydia asked, truly baffled. She realized he didn't care for Eugene in the least, but this was a bit extreme.

"'Cause I can. 'Cause I feel like it, Deetz. The Ghost With the Most, remember? What the fuck is stoppin' me? You sure as hell ain't." he scoffed, causing Lydia to become highly irritated.

"Look, if this has to do with what you told me...I had no idea! You can't punish them for something you're pissed at me for!" she reasoned. Of course, Beetle wasn't a creature of reason. He was a creature of booze and stupidity, and doing whatever the hell he wanted.

"Oh, that's where yer wrong. I can and I _will_. I've been waiting to give Romeo what's comin' to him. Not like anyone gives a shit about me. Why should I give a shit about your little lover boy? Matter of fact, why should YOU give a shit about him? He left yer ass! Just like a fuckin' broad! Always swoonin' over the dickwad's that don't give a shit! You wouldn't know a decent guy if he came up and bit ya on the ass!" he ranted, as Lydia became amazed by just how bitter the ghost was.

This was absurd. "Really?!" Lydia scoffed in amazement, now thoroughly pissed off by his accusations. "And you would? You're the one who's sleeping around twenty-four seven! Going to strip clubs, buying hookers, getting kicked out of bars! Maybe if you weren't such a dickhead, you'd have a better chance! Maybe if you weren't so disgusting and mean, maybe if you weren't always drunk and desperate...and..."

"ENOUGH, LYDIA!" he yelled, his eyes on fire with anger as a nearby light shattered with his rage. "I'm a fuckin' loser, okay?! There, ya wanna hear it? I do all that shit because nobody gives a fuck about me! This bein' dead shit ain't what it's cracked up to be! I hate it, okay?! Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna send these bitches to Saturn! Then, I'm out! Ya' hear me?! Take the fuckin' Roadhouse! Take it all! I'm marryin' some hot, drunk bitch, then ya won't see me again!" he seethed, storming away from her and opening up the ground in front of them.

Lydia stood, horrified. "No..BJ! Don't! Don't do it!" she began to beg, hoping he'd have some semblance of empathy left. "Please? I'm sorry, okay! I didn't know!"

"Too late fer sorry now, Toots." he growled, grabbing a bottle of whiskey out of thin air as a large conveyor belt formed under the two cages, slowly leading them to the open portal before them. Eugene and his lover were both frantically screaming and begging to be freed.

Beetle took a swig, before leaning on a nearby wall and chuckling to himself. "Nice view from here! You guys'll take a nice, _looooong_ vacation. Hope you two like exercise, cause you'll be doin' a lot of runnin' where yer goin'! HAHAHA!" he laughed hysterically.

Lydia ran to the cages, hopelessly pulling on the bars, as if to pull them off the track. Of course, they were far too heavy for her to do any good. "Beetle, please! Stop!" she begged again.

"Ya didn't care if _I_ was turned to Sandworm shit. Hell, they won't die, Deetz! They're already dead!" he cackled, his bottle of whisky half finished.

"I told you I was sorry, you asshole! Stop it!" Lydia commanded, watching with wild eyes as Eugene's cage came closer to the abyss.

"Nope."

"I said stop it!" she continued, feeling a strange feeling of rage well up inside herself.

"Negative."

"I mean it! Stop it!" she yelled a bit louder, the strange emotion feeling like a ball of energy inside her.

"Nuh-uh." Beetle scoffed, finishing his drink and throwing it down the literal wormhole. "I told ya, Deetz. Ya ain't gonna stop me. Loverboy's gonna take the leap. Unfortunately, Toots, it ain't with you, if ya get mah drift! HAHA!" he cackled.

The feeling was so huge, it consumed her at this point. "I...said...STOP IT!" she yelled, feeling electricity flow through her ghostly veins. As the last two words left her lips, a giant, invisible wave of energy flew from her, releasing her from that terrible feeling of rage inside. At that instant, his prisoners cages and chains crumbled, along with the conveyor belt. The portal began to shake, closing in on itself. Eugene and his blonde mistress stumbled away, running out the front door in sheer terror.

Lydia stood, eyes wide, completely and utterly dumbfounded. "Holy...shit..." she whispered, unable to believe what had just happened.

She glanced to Beetle, who stood, equally as stupified. "What the fuck? Nobody told me you'd be _that_ powerful. Juno, you old bitch...Coulda' filled me in. Shit." he muttered to himself, apparently forgetting his anger for a second.

"My powers? I have powers now?" Lydia asked, already realizing the answer. That was right. She was supposed to gain her ghostly powers once confronted with the truth of her death, and that had aready happened. That meant...

"Whoopty-doo. Good for you, Deetz. You'll need 'em, since ya won't have me around to zap shit into existence for ya anymore." Beetle replied, half sulking, half bitchy and angry.

"I-I can visit my family again...I can visit Dad..a-and Barbara..." she smiled to herself, relieved that at least some good would come out of this. All the while, she was completely ignoring Beetlejuice, not realizing that he was still irate, and growing more pissed by the second. "I just need to figure out how..."

"Well don't come askin' me! I told ya. I'm out." he growled, now walking out the front door.

"Wait!" Lydia yelled, running to catch up. Yes, things sucked. Yes, things went all to shit, but she hadn't seen her family since she'd passed. Right now, the thought of seeing their faces overshadowed even the worst emotion she was feeling before. It gave her hope. "Just tell me how to get home, at least. Please!"

"You really don't give a shit, do you?" Beetle remarked, with Lydia sensing a bit of genuine pain in his voice. He paused a moment, staring at her with a baffled look.

"Well, it's not that. I-I just..."

"Wrong again. Go fuck yerself, Deetz." he spat, before vanishing in a green cloud of smoke, which promptly formed into a middle finger. _Real classy_.

Lydia sighed, dropping to the floor in the hallway. Damn things were messed up right now.


	25. Drunk and Sad

Chapter 25: Drunk and Sad

Lydia stepped up to the front door of the Roadhouse, noting that it was slightly open. It was her third attempt to poof herself there, and after ending up beside a gynecologists' office and a random garbage dumpster, she'd finally hit her target. She sighed, feeling wary about entering should Beetle still be there. Instead, she opted to lean her back against the cool exterior of his home, gazing at the dark, ominous sky and listening for any signs of movement from within, much the same way that one would listen in the jungle to see if a jaguar was about to jump out and rip one's head off.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking in the particularly large doses of crazy that were simultaneously occuring at that moment. Eugene was currently BJ's contractual prisoner, she had completely choked up when face to face with him, she'd made a complete mess of things unintentionally, she'd finally gained powers, and last, but certainly not least, the infamous Beetlejuice, was in some kind of _way_ about her. Lydia couldn't think about it as love, for the sole reason that she wasn't so sure it was. Did someone like him even have that capability? At what point did he begin to feel this particular w _ay_ about her? And just why was she thinking about this subject again?

It had raced through her mind about a hundred times since he'd said those really weird _things_. And every time the thought accumulated, she'd automatically wonder about two things in particular. The first was why she hadn't seen it all along. She had noticed he had a bit of a soft spot for her, but she shrugged it off as a bit of a friendship. And it was. _Sort of_. Besides, Beetle's moods flipped from drunk and happy, to drunk and horny, to drunk and pissed, to utterly dejected, and the list went on. How was she even supposed to decipher all of that? During their first meeting in the Neitherworld the guy hadn't even realized who she was, and when he finally did figure it out, he wasn't too happy about it. It wasn't until their recent time spent together that she felt that he ever really liked her at all. How was she supposed to figure him out when he was so damned senile?

The second question that came to mind, however, made the first paradox seem like child's play. Inside the deepest, darkest recesses of her undead brain, she actually considered how she felt about _him_ of all people...

Lydia gazed at the starless sky above, taking the silence as a cue to enter safely. She quietly opened the door and entered the house, to find it completely destroyed, most likely from a tantrum, no less. She walked by the debris in the living room and made her way to his kitchen, where her desperation led her to actually open his fridge and pull out a bottle of booze. She sighed, turning up a chair that he'd apperently thrown over, and pulled it up to his table.

Just what did she think of the poltergeist? She turned up the bottle and took a long, hard drink, and set to contemplating. The fact that she'd even took to studying on the matter rather than yelling a decise, adamant "no", was enough to worry her. She gazed at a nearby fly crawling across the table as she mused on the subject, head propped against a clenched fist. Well, it definitely wasn't a physical attraction. Beetlejuice was about as cute as a crime scene, and even that would take knocking a few pounds of dirt off of him. It didn't take a Harvard graduate to come to the conclusion that he was revolting. But then again, this was the afterlife - the Neitherworld to be precise. Everyone was gross. So by those standards, he was okay. She'd certainly seen a lot worse, especially those unfortunate civil servants she'd set eyes upon when she'd first arrived.

All of that aside, she did find herself quite amused by his off-beat sense of humor, his blatant ability to lie and be completely proud of it, and the sly, clever demeanor that stayed well hidden under all his general debauchery and foolishness. Of course, there was an aspect of the ghost that stayed hidden deeper than his smarts, and that was his very real, very human, pain. From early on, Lydia could sense that he was unhappy, depressed, and lonely. She was also quite glad he couldn't read her thoughts or she was pretty sure she'd be spontaneously combusted by now. He despised anyone knowing anything that he was really thinking. He only wanted those around him to see his persona - his invincibility. He was actually quite complicated - intriguing, even.

If Lydia had to be honest with herself, she did find him to be special to her, in a sense. He did bring her happiness. He was good company. He did save Adam and Barbara so very long ago, and if it wasn't for him doing so, her life wouldn't have been so profoundly influenced by two wonderful (albeit dead) people. He'd actually been quite pleasant, that was, until she choked a bit on another bargain. Truthfully, the only reason he'd become a complete and total asshole had been the fact that he'd been jealous of Eugene. Jealous that she hadn't completely gotten over a guy that he hated. A guy that almost took his place. Not to mention, he'd given her a home when she had nothing. He'd given her companionship. He'd given her hope.

"Shit..." she muttered, burrying her head in her arms. "I really _am_ insane..." she groaned. It was no wonder that she wanted to set things right with him for breaking her deal years ago. That she always felt as if she'd done the wrong thing to a guy that had saved her beloved Maitlands. That she'd sometimes lay awake at night and wonder if he was still out there - still okay. Wonder if she'd ever see him again...

* * *

After a few hours spent drowning her sorrows, Lydia knocked over one of her many empty beer bottles as she pulled herself up from the table. She staggered to Beetle's bedroom, holding the walls for some much-needed support. When she stumbled through the doorway and dive-bombed onto his bed, knocking up dust in the process, she noticed a small, brassy object on the endtable. Or maybe three small, brassy objects. Lydia squinted, trying to focus her drunkard vision. Okay. One object.

She crawled to the endtable, reaching for the object and grabbing it for further observation. She squinted harder, realizing just what it was. This was the ring. _His_ ring. The one that was meant for her.

Immediately, she felt regret for his unfortunate circumstances. He really did want out, and she did care about his wishes. She cared about him.

"Haha...Wonder...what it would have...been like..." she sniggered drunkenly, her intoxicated mind wondering into places far too private for her rational, sober mind to ever pry. She thought of what kind of husband that crazy bastard would be. Definitely an interesting one. Probably fun. Maybe awesome, even. He was pretty cool. "Haha..." she rolled playfully on her back, eyeing the ring. "Mrs. Lydia Juice...Haha..." she laughed to herself, sliding the ring on her finger. "I do."


	26. Limbo

Chapter 26: Limbo

Beetle stomped down the winding, checkerboard corridor, heading toward the infamous waiting room. Or the place he'd formerly referred to as hell with a side of fuck you. He stomped in said room, storming past a man with a shovel stuck in his skull and a crispy wet person with a hairdryer permanently fried to their hand. Both promplty averted their gazes from him as he raged toward his destination.

"Oh no...Not you again...Hey, I already told you! You can't go in there, shit-for-brains! Get over here and take a numb-" Miss I'm-Not-A Stripper gasped through her nose, realizing he'd clamped that pesky mouth of hers shut.

Beetle let himself in, walking down another hallway and bursting through Juno's office door.

The old woman and her countless wrinkles scowled, making her face look even more like the Grand Canyon that it already did. "What the hell is it this time, Juice?" she spat, giving her usual _I hate your existence_ glare that Beetlejuice had grown accustomed to.

"Deetz. Lydia-Fuckin'-Deetz. That's what." he growled, stepping up to her desk placing both grimy hands upon it. He leaned forward, his face remarkably close to the old biddy. Too close really. Beetle backed up a bit, realizing how much scarier she was at that proximity.

Juno glared, unflinching, as she lit a cigarette and took a long, hard draw from it. "So? What about her?" she shrugged, smoke rising from her neck hole - which was, by far, the most disturbing hole a woman could have, Beetle concluded.

"You didn't tell me she'd be _that_ powerful!" he barked, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"So you helped her gain back her power?" Juno smirked, while grabbing a pile of papers and shuffling through them casually.

"No shit! Why is she able to stop my...uh...abilities..." Beetle spoke, purposely leaving out details of anything that could land him back in the pin, which was basically everything he'd just done.

He watched as Juno paused momentarily, her expression going blank, before continuing her work. "So she's as powerful as you are..." she reasoned nonchalantly, properly showing that she didn't give a fuck, like she always did.

"Heeey now! I didn't say that! I said she can dispel my shit, not do anything BETTER than me! So? What's the deal?" he asked, growing freaking impatient as hell. He really just needed an answer, so he could find a way to put an end to that shit, then and there. The thought of Lydia being as powerful as him was a bit unnerving, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not. Hell, the woman had already taken over his life, his house, and made him put the damned toilet seat down (and he swore he wouldn't do that)! He didn't know if he could take another blow to his nutsack and actually survive it.

"There is no deal, Juice. I never knew anything about her potential abilities, once they formed. I don't know why you barged your ass in here, taking up my time with this! You used to work for the system, Juice! You should remember how it works like the back of your moldy hand! You damned sure exploit it enough to!" she fumed, smoke billowing out of her like a volcano - only much, much scarier.

"This is no time for compliments, Juno!" Beetle stalled, trying to rile her up and not think of the truth she spoke.

Juno rolled her eyes, before glaring back into his. "You know how it works. Protocol states that we each come into the Neitherworld with the same basic powers. Some greasy shits like you learn to exploit our government and find some loophole to jump through and gain more. I'm betting that isn't the case with Miss Deetz."

Beetle looked away from her scowl, feeling really weird right about now. "Nah."

"Well, if you know anything about our law, and I'd venture to say you do, since you're still trying to exploit it!" she continued, as Beetle began to open his mouth in protest. "Ah ah, Juice! I know you are, so keep it shut!" she pointed a gnarly old finger in his face, forcing him to do just that. "You would know that the only other way a ghost would have the power of a poltergeist yourself, would be through some sort of connection. Now what kind of connection can that tiny, pea brain of yours come up with?" she taunted, demanding a response.

Beetle stood, dumbfounded. Holy shit. Not _that._ That would have been good a decade ago, but it was freaking pointless now. "You mean to tell me that that shitshow with Deetz actually went all the way?! How? She wouldn't get hitched to me, and I came out a Sandworm's ass!"

"Doesn't matter. It was either our governments finest hour of incompetency, or the powers that be made it so. You said yes, you made her say yes. You stuck a ring on her finger. That's why Lydia was penalized, Juice. You can't be reprimanded for a deal that wasn't a deal. And by law, it was a legal, contactual obligation, and Miss Deetz breached the contract. So now we have a physical binding of your souls - hence her power - due to the ceremony technically being completed. However, since she rejected the ring and the agreement after legal completion of the ritual, we have your marriage hanging in limbo from a legal standpoint." Juno laid it all out, and with each word, made Beetlejuice that much more nauseous.

"So...What's it mean? We hitched or not?" he blurted out, hoping his last chance for freedom hadn't been permanently weighed down by the old ball and chain.

"Technically speaking, yes and no. Yes, your souls are bound forever. And no, she rejected the ring, which leaves you hanging, Juice." she said dryly, sucking on her smoke once more.

"Does that mean I can still get married to say...some other broad?" Beetle raised a brow, hoping against hope that it wasn't too late. Sure, Deetz was everything he'd ever wanted in a woman, but she hated him at the moment, and frankly, the feeling was mutual. Besides, she used all her womanly charms just to torment him into thinking he could have her. Always a fuckin' tease.

"Whoever you use the ceremonial ring on will be your wife. Plain and simple. So, yes, you can, although I think that's another shit-brained idea of yours and as I said before, I wouldn't advise it. You just got out of jail. You marry some unfortunate soul in the living realm and stay out for a few decades, and for what? Mark my words, Juice, you're better off with that girl. Hell, she's the only one who can tolerate your filthy ass."

"Correction: WAS the only one. She hates my fuckin' guts now. So that's a no go." Beetle grinned, his voice thick with spite. He looked at one of his six watches."Well, wouldya look at the time. Gotta go look for a new prospect-" he began, only to be cut off by Juno once more.

"Oh, you can go through with your plan, Juice. But remember, even if you marry another, your souls are permanently bonded. Forever, no ifs , ands, or buts about it. And be wary about that little ring of yours. That object alone is what's keeping your status in limbo. Whoever wears it is your wife. Period." she warned, flicking her ashes into a nearby tray.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...I know, I know. The ring. Got it." Beetle nodded, not really giving a shit about her omens of doom or whatever. Besides, it wasn't like anyone even gave a fuck about his stupid ring. In other words, he was good to go.


	27. Bargains

Chapter 27: Bargains

"Ugh..." Lydia groaned, her head throbbing from the previous night's intoxication. She found herself under a pile of dusty old blankets in Beetle's bed. She felt hot, sweaty, and completely ready to vomit. In all her living years she had always assumed that a ghost could not succumb to physical ailments, but she soon realized that her assumptions couldn't have been further from the truth.

Eyes growing wide, she quickly held a hand over her mouth and staggered her way to the bathroom. After a good bit of time praying to the porcelain god, she promptly flushed, then stood on wobbly legs, making her way to the sink to brush away the grossness.

After the initial cleaning process, she sighed with relief, splashing her face with cold water and enjoying the silence. However, that silence was short lived, due to a loud, abrupt bang at the front door.

Lydia gasped, freezing in her tracks, hand still pressing against the bathroom door. "Oh no..." she whispered to herself, hearing Beetle's heavy footsteps pacing through the house. She listened as he stepped into what seemed to be the kitchen, most likely to retrieve some alcohol. After the short pitstop, her eyes widened once more to hear him coming toward the very door she stood pressed against.

Shit! Lydia wasn't quite sure how to behave or even if was wise to make her presence known to the poltergeist, considering his last form of communication involved a big, smokey middle finger to her face.

Unfortunately, the choice was yanked right out of her hands as Beetle twisted the knob, trying to get in the locked doorway.

"Uh...Occupied..." Lydia mumbled, cringing at just how awkward she felt about the whole situation. She bristled, hearing him mutter bitterly to himself, as he walked on by. That, in and of itself, was a whole new level of uneasy for her. Beetlejuice was never that quiet, and never at a loss for words.

Half in curiousity, half in fear, Lydia pressed her ear to the door, listening to him entering his bedroom. Shortly thereafter, the quiet of the morning took a flying leap, as Beetlejuice began to tantrum as he was prone to do. Of course, this time she was a bit more fearful, because his ranting was a bit more ranty than usual. And that's when she heard the tail-end of what he was saying.

"...Now where is that fucking ring?!" he bellowed in rage, as Lydia gasped, looking to her left hand. She'd completely forgotten about last night - about getting completely plastered and trying on his ring.

Panicking, she pressed her back agains the door and tugged at the ring. Maybe she'd just pretend she found it in the bathroom so he wouldn't take his pissed mood out on her anymore.

"What?" she yelped, feeling a shock of electricity as she tugged. The result was a painful jolt as the ring refused to budge. "No..." she inhaled, trying once more, only to be literally juiced again. "No, no, no!" she whimpered, hearing Beetle's raging steps coming near once more. Every attempt to remove the wedding band brought another shock, each worse than the last.

He began to pound on the door, "Deetz, hurry it up! I gotta problem here!"

"Uh...J-just a minute!" she replied, buying a literal minute to decide what to do. Obviously, the ring wasn't coming off, so she had to think quick. Her powers! That was it. Lydia focused as much as possible, as a black pair of gloves materialized over her hands, hiding her transgression. She quickly looked to a spot on the sink, focusing even harder than before. An identical, albeit fake, ring appeared on that very spot, as Lydia breathed a sigh of relief.

"C'mon, damnit! I don't have all day!" he fumed, banging on the door even harder.

"Okay! I'm finished!" Lydia feigned an amicable voice, though she secretly felt the urge to slam the door into his face for being such an ass.

"'Bout time..." he stood, arms folded, back in his signature striped attire. She stepped out of the way as he barged in, slamming the door shut.

She exhaled happily, when she heard him mumble to himself.

"Ah, there you are...How the fuck did you end up in here? Heh, booze really makes a man misplace shit."

* * *

Most of Lydia's day was relatively quiet, and that alone disturbed her. Beetlejuice was never quiet unless he was in a bad mood or plotting on someone. He stayed to himself, while she sat awkwardly on the sofa watching a marathon of Post Mortem Paternity, and wondering just why she was compelled to do that.

And then her thoughts began to creep to areas she didn't want to think about while he was just a few rooms away. Should she apologize? No! She couldn't help her emotions got the better of her. But then again, she did screw up another bargain. He did just admit some sort of affection toward her, while she failed to consider it in the least.

Despite her confusion, Lydia didn't think his decision to leave would change, either way. So she knew it wouldn't throw him off. Besides, there was that awful, nagging guilt coming back. And, if anything, she decided last night that she was insane enough to care for the idiot. Lydia even thought it best that he did leave. At least he'd be happy and not so damned miserable. It wasn't like she didn't have anyone anymore. She had the power to travel back to Winter Rivers now, so she wouldn't be alone.

Lydia inhaled, standing and preparing herself to witness Beetle either laughing hysterically in her face or having another psychotic tantrum. She sighed, shaking her head and realizing just how absurd her afterlife truly was. No matter what his reaction, she was determined to speak her mind, regardless. She slowly began the long walk to his room in the back of the Roadhouse, wondering just why that pesky conscience of hers was always in need of cleaning.

* * *

Lydia cleared her throat, unnerved by the eerie silence while she stood before the shambly door to his bedroom. Maybe he wasn't even in there anymore. Perhaps that was why it remained so silent. Lydia pressed an ear against his door, jumping as she heard loud sound of glass shatter on the other side. Nope, he was definitely in there. And he was still pissed.

She shook her head, as if to shake the dread away. This needed to be done. He had helped her gain her power back on top of saving her Maitlands back in the day. The least she could do was tell him she was sorry - and more, if he'd allow it.

Timidly, she pecked lightly on the old door, unnerved when her surroundings grew silent once more.

"...BJ?" she forced herself to call out.

"What do YOU want?!" his less-than-pleasant tone growled on the other side.

"Can I come in?" she asked softly, hoping not to rile him any more than necessary. Strangely, she not only felt the need to apologize again, but a stronger urge to help him. It was almost as if she were beginning to become drawn to him in a way she hadn't experienced before, and she wasn't quite sure why.

"Whatever."

She figured that was as close to a "yes" as she was going to get, so she slowly creaked the old door open. Her brow furrowed in a strange mixture of confusion and pity as Beetlejuice lay propped up on the headboard of his bed, in a stained white shirt and his pinstripe pants with cigarette butts and busted beer bottles strewn across his room. A couple of nudie magazines laid in a corner with the centerfolds stretched out, causing her to briefly wrinkle her nose up.

"What?!" he barked, flicking the ashes of his smoke on the already mountainous pile that had formed beside him on his bed.

"Listen..." she spoke, taking a step closer and hoping he wouldn't clamp her lips shut. "I didn't mean to ruin our deal..." she began.

Beetle took a swig from his nearly-empty beer, draining the remaining contents and smashing it against the wall, causing Lydia to jump slightly. "Eh...Not surprising, Deetz, given your shitty track record. If ya get mah drift." he remarked, scratching his nether regions in what seemed to be an attempt to appear as gross and unappealing as possible. And it was working.

"I know..." she nervously began wringing her hands as she averted her eyes from his unabashed ball scratching. "I owe you an apology."

"What?" Beetle wrinkled his face in true shock for the briefest moment, before replacing the expression with his signature pissed off at the Neitherworld face again. "Oh, no ya don't! The B-man ain't takin' no more apologies! Nope! No sir! No way! They don't mean shit anyway, Toots! They just...well...complicate shit..." he trailed off, scratching his moldy head and staring at the nudie mags across the room.

Lydia frowned, puzzled and at a loss for words. "But I _am_ really sorry. I didn't mean to screw things up. I didn't mean to react to Eugene-"

"Enough about that asshat! That little prick and his pet hooker are still MY property. I'm just too pissed to care if they go runnin' all the way to hell to get away from me." he growled, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Lydia sighed, feeling a bit frustrated in her inability to change his mood. She stepped across the room and sat on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the ring hidden beneath her gloves. "I really did it this time, didn't I? I really made you hate my guts forever."

Beetle paused a moment, "Your words, Deetz, not mine..."

Lydia folded her arms, confused by his statement. "So, what is that supposed to mean? You don't hate me but you act like you do? Ugh, I don't know anymore..." she sighed, frustrated deeply by his erratic behavior.

"It means forget about it! Ain't yer problem no way, Toots." he shrugged, pulling another brew out of thin air.

"Well...Why are you all holed up in your room?" Lydia frowned, her mood lowering by the minute. She didn't quite understand why, but she thought she could almost feel his rotten attitude in her veins, and it wasn't pretty.

"Erghh...Just like you, Deetz. Nosey as fuck. Look, here's the deal. Jerry Porkbelly or whatever the fuck his name is...The B-man specifically told him to say the magic words if and when dumb and dumber threw another banger." he began, his voice and movements becoming more aggressive as he spoke. "Well, I'm pretty damned sure that two broads that stay that drunk and horny have more than likely thrown a kegger or two by now! So, yeah I'm not exactly on cloud nine that morbidly obese PeeWee Herman hasn't decided to honor our little agreement! Fuck!" he jumped out of bed, smashing the bottle on the floor as the lights dimmed. Lydia's eyes widened at that very moment, feeling heat and energy build up inside of her with his rage. Just what was going on?

"Ya know what? Everybody attacks the ole' B-man when it's convenient. Oh, look at him! He's gross! He's an asshole! He lasts three seconds in the sack! Yeah, I may be all that shit, but I keep a fuckin' deal!" he threw his hands about, stomping and throwing a literal fit until the lights in his room exploded, leaving them in darkness, save from a little light from his dirty window.

Lydia could see his glowing green eyes glaring at her in the darkness. It wasn't just Gerald who couldn't keep a bargain. Truthfully, she could feel just how angry and dejected the hostile ghost was. It was mostly directed toward her. She could feel it. She averted her eyes from his intense stare, gazing down at the broken glass on his floor, thoughts racing through her mind as she searched for someway to help. At the same time, she felt a bit fearful of just how much she wanted to help. It was as if she held some sort of deep connection inside of her - one she'd not really experienced before. It simply drove her to fix things between them. Maybe it always had to a small extent, but now more than ever, it had intensified greatly.

"You're right. You _can_ keep a bargain. Maybe..." Lydia trailed off, as an idea came to mind." Maybe I can talk to Gerald for you. Maybe I can change his mind - persuade him further. Or at least find out what's going on."

"What?!" Beetle's gaze fell slack, as Lydia felt the intense, angry energy inside herself fade away all of a sudden. "Why the fuck would ya do that?" he asked, profoundly astonished.

Good. She'd caught him off guard. Now was her chance to possibly fix things for the both of them. "Because, whether you like it or not, we're friends. You saved my family and you've helped me more than you'll know. I want to help you, too..." she said, the softness in her voice alarming even her, as she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. As her hand touched his bare arm, a strange, warm current of electricity began to tingle in her palm, flowing up her arm and causing her to feel tremendously uneasy. Apparently Beetle felt it too, for the expression on his face was that of pure, unadulterated terror.

After the brief shock of it all, he promptly backed away from her, scoffing. "Yeah...yeah, alright, Deetz. Fine, if yer gonna get all weepy and shit on me. See if you can get that butterball to cooperate. Probably the only chance I got left, anyway." he grunted, reaching for his striped jacket. He put it on, knocking copious amounts of dust from it, before grabbing a lit cigarette from his pocket and taking a hard draw from it. All the terror seemed to remain hidden, Lydia mused. However, she also noticed, that the thick, electric feeling of anger had vanished as well. Interesting.


	28. Last Resorts

Chapter 28: Last Resorts

"Okay then, BJ. I'll be back soon." Lydia nodded, before closing her eyes tightly and gradually fading into a puff of purple smoke.

Beetle could only stare in awe as Lydia Deetz, the proverbial Mother Teresa of the Neitherworld, left his filthy presence to go out and help him fulfill his fruitless endeavors. _Just what the fuck was happening?_ It wasn't like he deserved it or anything. Hell, he'd been nothing but a complete prick to her since the whole scheme to scare the shit out of Eustus, or whatever his name was.

He sighed, wiping his grimy hand over his face as he contemplated all the weird shit that he couldn't seem to escape. Hell, it was so much easier when he was being a bastard to her. It was just more simple to convert his, dare he say _, hurt feelings,_ into good, wholesome inebriated rage. And just when he was doing such a good job of being a dick, there came Lydia-motherfuckin'-Deetz, waltzin' right into his life again, making him not so angry anymore. That was some real shit, there.

He took another drag of his smoke, while making his way to the toilet, stopping by the sink to gaze at himself in the mirror. He glared at himself, looking at the dark rings around his eyes, the mold that had attached itself to his skin, and the grime that caked his undead form. "You sonofabtich..." he loathed, throwing his cigarette in the sink and putting it out in the fragments of water that remained therein. Man, he was a creep. A real creep. No wonder Lydia wouldn't want his filthy ass. She was just too good for him, plain and simple. Truthfully, he had sprung his feelings on her at the worst possible moment, and he knew that deep down. He realized he'd jumped the gun and she hadn't had time to react, let alone consider him while her asshole ex was right there in the picture. He knew he hadn't played fair when he decided to pretend to hate her guts. And it was all pretend. Truth was he loved her guts very, very much - in that gushy, make-you-vomit kinda way.

He grunted unhappily, before standing in front of the toilet and pulling the seat up, while pissing away the copious amounts of booze he'd consumed and mentally belittling himself in the process. He was lucky a sweet babe like that even considered a shitbag like himself to be her friend. At least that wouldn't change, he reasoned. If she'd put up with his ass that long, then they were pretty much friends for eternity, and that alone brought him a little comfort. He'd likely be out in the realm of the living soon anyway, since she was all hot and persuasive and would likely get Geraldo to follow through on the deal.

He finished, zipping his fly and stepping away, thinking about when he'd return - maybe in about fifty or sixty years, give or take. Maybe he'd hunt her up again and take her out for some drinks, or whatever.

Beetle stood at the bathroom entrance, gazing back to the toilet, with its seat raised full fast, high and proud like he'd always left it before Lydia stepped into his life. Ah, who was he kidding? He missed her ass already!

He growled, hating himself for being so hopelessly castrated by the very thoughts of her. He stomped back to the toilet and slammed the seat down, realizing this feeling wasn't going anywhere, no matter which realm he was in. "FUCK!"

* * *

"Aggh!" Gerald yelped, nearly falling into his bookshelf as Lydia haphazardly poofed into the room, falling face first into him.

"Gerald! I-I'm so sorry! I haven't gotten used to this whole magic powers thing yet..." she admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed as the helped steady the man she'd nearly knocked to the floor.

"Oh, Lydia! It's you! Heh...I thought it was that Beetle fellow again." he sighed, wiping his sweat-drenched features with a handkercheif. As Gerald walked over to pick up a book that he'd flung into the floor due to her arrival, she noticed that music boomed voraciously throughout the apartment, rattling objects and shaking the walls. She studied the man himself, noting that he appeared even more anxious and strained than before, his shirt nearly dripping with sweat.

"No, he's not here, but he can be if you need these party animals removed." she suggested politely, as she watched his face fill with dread.

"I-I'm not so sure I can do that, Lydia. I tried to consider it. Really, I did. I just don't know what that poltergeist is capable of. I don't know if my conscious will allow it. What if he murders someone? I mean, these girls disturb my peace, but they don't deserve an early grave." he explained, wiping at his soaken brow.

Oh shit, she was losing him, and fast. "Look, I understand where you are coming from, believe me! I do! It's just, that, well, you don't deserve this! Look at you! You're tired, anxious, and miserable. You need help. You don't need...well... _this_..." she gestured to the chaotic room, as a picture of Gerald himself conveniently fell to the floor, shattering due to the loud vibrations of the music. Lydia could feel herself panicking inside, watching his terrified gaze dart about the room, watching more of his beloved books fall to the floor. Truthfully, she not only wanted to help Beetlejuice, but Gerald himself. The poor fellow was a complete and utter mess at this point. Feeling deep sympathy for his unfortunate state, she placed a hand on his sweat-drenched shoulder. "Just how long has this been going on?"

He gazed at her, looking completely fed up and forlorn. "Days. Days and days. I've truly lost count..."

"Listen, I know my friend is a bit unorthodox...But, believe it or not, he's better at holding bargains than I am. He's a very... _strategic_...businessman. If he makes a deal, he will fulfill his end of it. Just trust me on this, Gerald. I really want to help you...both of you..." she admitted, hoping she'd convinced him. "So will you please call on him and end all of this. I promise that neither the girls or anyone else will be physically harmed in any way." she pleaded, as he averted his eyes, gazing at his bookshelf with much sorrow in his features.

She watched with baited breath as Gerald began to nod slowly. "Miss Lydia...I-I think you have a point. Whatever that lunatic plans to do, it can't possibly be any more insufferable than this. I-I'll do it."

Lydia smiled, breathing sigh of relief. "Thank you, Gerald. Thank you so much! Okay. Now, when you are ready...Say his name three times..." she instructed carefully, rubbing her gloved hands together tightly in anticipation. Finally, she could truly keep her word. Finally, she could help her dear, demented friend.

* * *

Beetle paced about hysterically, checking all six of his watches in anticipation. "C'mon, Babe...Let me know somethin'..." he groaned, feeling himself grow more tense by the minute. Maybe she was getting through to that chubby little poindexter. Or maybe it was taking so long because she wasn't.

Suddenly, Beetle stopped dead in his tracks, feeling a prickle in his icy skin and a slight whisper in his ear. Then he felt it again, but stronger. _Did Lydia actually pull it off? Could this really be it? His one way ticket outta this hell hole?_

Beetle grinned, rubbing his hands together, and chuckling to himself. "C'mon Lard-ball...Say it again! HAHAHA!"

And the third sensation came in the form of a yell, and a jolt of electricity through his veins, as he vanished into the realm of the living.


	29. It's Showtime!

Chapter 29: It's Showtime!

Beetle immediately materialized in the middle of the biggest, loudest party those two broads had thrown yet. "Hehehe..." he chuckled deviously to himself, pulling a cigar and a pair of shades out from the pocket of his Hefner-esque robe. He breathed in deeply, smelling the lovely infusion of booze, weed, vomit, and that fragrant aroma commonly known as hot ass that filled the apartment. He placed his shades on, grinning from ear-to-ear, and admiring the vast sea of scantily clad college chicks grinding on trashed frat boys. "Ah...Good times, good times..." he mused, his initial excitement overshadowing the pain of potentially losing contact with Deetz.

He stalked about casually, lit cigar in hand, looking for broad number one and number two. Shit. He'd forgotten their names already. Betty and Bimbo? Junie and Sal? Ah, who gave a fuck? They were wasted. Nobody would know the difference anyway. He shrugged, taking a drag off his smoke and moving on.

Beetle walked past an end table, picking up a bottle of booze, and noting the funny taste in it. Roofies or something, he'd figured. Good thing he was dead, he thought, pouring it out in the floor so someone might be spared the bad trip. Damn, when did he become so chivalrous? He'd promplty determined that he'd been hanging around Lydia Deetz far too long. And that fact helped him feel a bit better about the whole sham of a marriage that was about to ensue. Yep, definitely a wise choice. Indeed.

After about fifteen minutes of hearing annoying, slurred banter and listening to some crappy new Euro pop shit, Beetlejuice finally laid eyes on the glorious sight. Brunette broad number one was laying across the kitchen table as drunk fuckboys took shots off her navel, while Blonde broad number two was doing the whole chug booze through a hoze schtick.

"Heh. Classy. My kinda women." Beetle mused, puffing on his cigar in a corner as he contemplated the exact details of his plan. He smirked to himself, fitting all of the pieces into place in his mind, before going off to find Deetz and that fat pumpkin roll.

* * *

"Heh heh heh...Well if it ain't my good ole' buddy, Jerry!" Beetle appeared in the room, startling both Lydia and Gerald as he threw a suffocating arm around his unfortunate client. "How the hell are ya?!"

Gerald nervously began to answer, until Beetle interrupted him.

"Wait, no. Lemme guess. Ya feel like shit, amirite? Cause ya sure look like it, Jerr! But don't you worry that fat little head of yers, the Ghost With the Most, the Neitherworld's top entrepreneur, businessman, and renowned bio-exorcist is here to make your pathetic existence just a little more tolerable! Whaddaya say, Jerr? Ya ready?!" he asked, delighting in the fact that the little porkchop was quivering with anxiety under his overbearing grip. Heh. Served him right for taking so damned long!

"Ah-hem!" he heard Lydia clear her throat, as he pulled his arm away from Georgie-boy like a scolded puppy under her glare. Damnit! She wasn't supposed to be having that effect on him anymore. "So, BJ...Did you spot them?" she asked stepping up to him, as he tried to push away the strange feeling of guilt, regret, and general mushiness inside himself.

"Yup, and I'll need both of ya when the time is right, that is." he answered, trying to instead focus on reeking havoc and being set free.

"Mr. Juice...Just what exactly is going to happen?" Fatboy stepped up, curious about his brilliant plans.

"So glad you asked, Pudgy! Well, I'm gonna fuck up their party. Like, seriously fuck it up. I'll have them so scared they'll be sober in no time! Then I'll pick one of the dames, call the priest while everyone is running and screaming in terror...and that's where you two come in. I'll send Deetz the signal via her brain and them, boom! You two are my witnesses! I'll say that shit...Yadayada...Get mah ring on that finger..." he said pulling out the ring and eyeing it. "Then one lucky lady will be able to call herself Mrs. Juice, and my ass is free! HAHAHA!" he laughed, as Lydia seemed to faintly smile, averting her eyes. He simply forced himself to ignore her semi-sad expression.

"Yeah..." Lydia smiled sadly. "I'm happy for you, BJ. You've finally got the chance you deserve." she said, stepping up and giving him a hug, and thoroughly shocking the shit out of him.

He stood frozen, feeling the warm electric from her embrace flow through him along with a certain feeling of sadness and another sort of warmth - not the temperature kind. "Heh.." he laughed nervously. "I'll send ya a postcard or somethin', Deetz." he spoke, feeling that he sounded lame as fuck, as he stiffly patted her on the back.

Feeling a sadness of his own he quickly let go, feigning happiness once more. "Well, see you two in the funny papers!" he remarked, before vanishing.

* * *

This was it. This was his moment. He'd better not fuck it up.

Beetle appeared in the middle of all the chaos once more, slicking back his wild hair with a nasty old comb and adjusting his shades. "Hehe...It's _showtime_..." he sniggered to himself, before snapping his fingers. And at that very snap, all of the lights blacked out, leaving a bunch of horny, crazed, completely wasted college students in complete and utter darkness.


	30. Run

Chapter 30: Run

First Lydia heard a roar of screams on the other side of the door when things fell to complete darkness. She heard Gerald gasp in unison with the chaos. "It's okay. Hold on..." she concentrated hard, until a small, lit candle appeared in her hand. "There. It's just BJ. He's doing what he does best." she smiled warmly, watching Gerald's face twist in confusion.

"I'm sorry if I'm overstepping my bounds, Lydia, but I really don't see the point of this marriage ceremony. I just can't fathom why he'd want to be out in the realm of the living again, while he has a perfectly wonderful friend like yourself in the afterlife. Seems a bit redundant..." he spoke in earnest, causing Lydia to both feel pleasure and sadness. It was a nice gesture, but Beetlejuice had his afterlife-long dream of living again, and that was long before she'd came along. "I would consider myself lucky to call you a comrade if I were him."

"Thank you, Gerald. You're very kind." she answered sheepishly. "He'll come back sometime, I'm sure...Meanwhile, I can visit you, if you'd like some company from time to time." she suggested, as the portly man smiled.

"I'd like that, Miss Lydia. Maybe I can show you my library, once this rubbish is taken care of..."

"Oh, believe me. BJ will take care of it. He won't let you down." she smiled, pushing away her feelings as they both sat in the dim candlelight, waiting for his signal and listening to the storm beyond those four walls.

* * *

Beetle stood in the center of the room, snapping his fingers again, as a bright spotlight appeared from nowhere, illuminating his ghostly form for all to see. "Oohs" and "Ahhs" began to escape from drunken spectators as he juiced a microphone into his hand. "Well, how the fuck is everyone tonight?!"

He was greeted by drunken whoops and wasted whistles. Oh, this would be so easy! They were too trashed to know he wasn't part of those bitches' party! "Is everyone havin' a good time? Enjoyin' Suzy and Sheena's party tonight?" he asked, while a drunken chick yelled out that those were not, in fact, the broad's names.

"Oh, uh...Sarah and Julie?" he inquired.

"NO!" someone in the crowd blabbered.

"Eh, whatever the fuck...IT DOESN'T MATTER! YA KNOW WHY?!" he continued, pumping the crowd up.

"Why?" they replied, much to his delight. Hell, he'd already had them eating out of the palm of his hand.

"CAUSE WE'RE HERE TO FUCKIN' PARRRRTYYYY! NOW WHOSE WITH ME?!" he screamed, as the crowd roared, and various pairs of boobs were flashed. _Nice_.

"FUCK YEAH! HERE WE GO!" he yelled, as two more spotlights were shined on the two prisoner's he'd so conveniently trapped via contract.

Lydia's ex appeared under one, playing a double bass guitar, with a ball gag in his mouth and his arms and legs chained so that he couldn't move from his spot. Beetle sneered, seeing the terror in the hipsters eyes, either from the rude awakening or the fact that he was now forced to play some shitty hair band cover music. Either way, it was fucking priceless.

Under the other spotlight, Blondie herself appeared, chained to a stripper pole in a cage, dressed appropriately for that occasion. She, too, was less than happy about the fact that he was forcing her to dance for a bunch of drunk, horny fratboys. This, too, pleased Beetle. Served them both right for fucking Deetz over.

And, just like the magic that he worked, the crowd fell under his spell, jumping, and moshing, and flashing like one big, inebriated masterpiece.

"THAT'S RIGHT, LET ME HEAR YOU SCREEAAAMM!" he yelled, as everyone screamed and whooped together in unison.

''I CAN'T HEAR YOU! SCREEEAAAMMMM!" he yelled again, grinning widely and waiting for the moment that those happy screams would change to those of terror.

* * *

Juno sat at her desk, filing papers and hating eternity, as per standard procedure, when Miss Argentina scurried into her office. "Miss Juno. This was faxed to you marked ASAP. It's concerning the...ugh... _asshole_..." she sighed, rolling her eyes.

Juno grabbed the paper, seeing that it was an excessive noise ordinance warning from the other realm. That could only mean one thing. Only one idiot was stupid enough to be jumping sides and being loud as hell about it. Shit! Couldn't Juice learn to stay out of trouble for a few damned years? He was already on probation, and he'd land right back in jail for an extra long sentence if she didn't intervene. Even worse, she already figured just why he was on the other side, and that was the exact reason it would be the long haul for him this time, if he was to be found out. Strangely enough, her client's vibrations were a bit off lately, which was making him even easier to detect.

"Oh, hell. You know the drill. I need you to make a _certain_ call for me...Then take messages while I'm away. I'm gonna make this quick!" Juno ordered, before vanishing into a cloud of white smoke.

* * *

"Lydia Deetz? Where's Juice?!" an angry Juno popped into the room, as Lydia jumped up, startled by the sudden appearance.

"Uh...He's out there..." she admitted, knowing far too well that this meant his ass was in trouble. Just what kind of trouble, she was unsure of, but it was trouble, nonetheless.

"Miss Deetz, we have to stop him! I know his ass well enough to know that he's trying to get out of here, and he's not aware of just how steep the penalty is for another attempt at leaving this realm. Why, the idiot is still on probation as we speak! I know he has the ring! Whoever's finger that ring goes on will be his wife! Permanently! Once it's on, it's not coming off until the mortal dies! And if it DOES land on the finger of a living mortal, he's looking for at least a thousand or more years of solitary - if he's lucky! Now, let's get out there and stop his ass before he lands me in jail with him!" Juno spat, wide-eyed and ready to do nothing short of cutting BJ's balls off.

Lydia gasped, in a strange, alarming state of shock, grabbing Juno by the arm instantaneously as she realized just what all that meant. That mortal girl wouldn't be affected. No...It was...

"Miss Deetz, what the hell are you doing?! Let me go, before I-"

"I'M WEARING THE RING! IT'S ME! I HAD NO IDEA!" Lydia belted out before she could control it, ripping off her glove and shoving her hand in front of Juno's alarmed face.

"You..You're serious?!" Juno gasped, grabbing her hand and eyeing the ring.

"Does that mean...?" Lydia asked, her face blank and her mind racing and confused.

"Oh, it does. It most certainly does." Juno calmed down for a brief moment, before warning her again. "Well, we still need to put a stop to this, because he's still gonna get time if the Neitherworld Police get here before he quits his shit. Then I'll be working through his god forsaken paperwork for years...Ugh..." she moaned, rubbing her head in frustration. "C'mon Mrs. Juice. Follow me, or your ass will land in jail too if they assume you to be his accomplice." she gestured, as Lydia, partially frozen in shock, followed behind, unable to speak at the moment.

* * *

"Heh heh heh!" Beetle chuckled to himself, taking in the sheer glory of the moment. There he stood, with crowds of stupid morons just asking to be manipulated, and, of course, he'd gladly oblige them. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his undead veins, his excitement both euphoric and predatory in nature.

"IS EVERYONE HAVIN' A GOOD TIME TONIGHT?" he yelled in his mic, inducing a wave of screams, whistles, and drunken replies. _Good._

Now feeding off of his victims' and the pure energy rush, Beetle decided it was time to pounce. "I CAAAAAN'T HEAAAAR YOOOOOU!" he continued, as the drunken partygoers became even more loud and boisterous.

At that very moment, his demeanor fell dark and menacing, as the sound of a snake's rattle could be heard echoing throughout the appartment. "AHAHAHA, C'MON YA BUNCHA' PUSSIES! SCREEEEEEEAAAAAAM!"

What started as a good time for the spectators, quickly changed into something completely different. The blonde's cage began to shapeshift, with arachnid-like legs growing from the bottom, as it began to rapidly amble through the crowd, emitting a different type of scream from his audience. The stripper pole began to hiss and contort like a large serpent, as the woman cowered in the corner, clutching the bars and screaming at the top of her lungs.

Beetle grinned maliciously, turning and pointing toward his other prisoner. Lydia's ex began to whimper as his guitar began to sprout hundreds of centipede-like appendages, each one gripping him and squeezing tightly while Beetle forced him to keep playing.

People began to stagger and stumble over each other, attempting to scramble for the exit. Unfortunately for them, he'd already chained it shut.

"AWWW, DON'T GO! WE'RE JUST GETTIN' STARTED!" he yelled, grinning to himself as he snapped his fingers. What seemed like millions of insects began to swarm, surrounding the party, while snakes began to slither down the walls and right under the feet of his unfortunate partygoers.

The crowd began to jump and hop away from the slithering terror under their feet, all the while flailing wildly at the vicious pests swarming into their faces.

"YEAH! NOW YER REALLY MOVIN! GAWD, I THROW ONE HELLUVA PART-EE!" he scoffed, grabbing a drunken, young fratboy as he attempted to run for his life.

"Well, I see yer havin' quite an excitin' time! I think this party has it all, don't you? The music, hot drunk bitches, atomosphere...Whaddayasay?!" he asked, shoving the mic in the young man's face and causing him to faint. "Heh...Yeah, I like it, too..." Beetle grinned, stepping over the guy's body as he moved onward, scanning the area for either of his potential brides.

When he finally spotted the two chicks shivering in a corner, he felt a sharp twinge of pain in knowing that he'd be leaving the most awesome person he'd known behind. Of course he stuffed it down where it belonged, which was in the dark recesses of his brain, along with other unwanteds like those pesky little suppressed memories and mommy issues. _Perfect._

Beetlejuice straightened his robe, knocking the dust and man-stink off of it, before clearing his throat and suavely lighting another cigar. He stepped up to the two dames all sexy-like, ignoring their blatant terror and disgust. "So...Uh, you ladies having a good time tonight?"

The only reply he obtained was a jumbled mess of crying and confusion.

"Heh...Yeah, me too. It does bring a tear to my eye to see such a celebration! One fit for the perfect bachelor...That being _mahself_!" he chuckled, nudging the brunette playfully with his elbow, and accidentally causing her to faint.

"Well, that should make it easier." he shrugged, turning to the blonde, who gasped, wide-eyed, staring at her incapacitated friend on the floor.

"So, uh...I know this is a little early. I mean, it seems like we've only just met and all, but...I think it's meant to be, don't you?" he began, pulling out his comb again and slicking back his wild hair.

"W-what are you talking about?" the blonde college chick asked, her face curled up in what Beetle liked to refer to as pure desire. Others may have called it something different. Possibly disgust.

"Ya ever hear of love at first sight, Dollface? Well, here it is! What I'm offerin' you is a once-in-a-lifetime marriage! The kind ole' Willy Shakespeare himself spoke about in days of yore! Except even _better_! None of that fall in love, then want to kill yerself bullshit...er...Well, at least not on my end! HAHA! Ya ever seen the movie Titanic?" he asked, snaking an arm around the broad's shoulders and causing her to yip in horror.

She didn't respond verbally. _P_ _robably too choked up on all those sexual feelings_ , Beetle mused. She merely nodded, too afraid to speak.

"Heh, it was great, wasn't it? All the wreckage and the freezin', but hey, that's beyond the point! Had a pretty fuckin' awesome love story, dontcha think? Well, except for the part where that bitch didn't share the door or whatever. Just don't do that shit, okay? Point being: I'll be the king of your world, baby! Whaddya say? Wanna get hitched?" he asked, and before she could begin to form the word "no", he may have accidentally forced her to reply with an overjoyed "HELL YEAH! PLEASE BABY! I'LL DO ANYTHING TO BE YOUR WIFE!"

"Awww...Thanks Pookie-Wookie...I knew ya'd come through..." he laughed deviously, before a big, red, gawdy wedding dress appeared on the girl, who attemped to scream, but failed miserably due to the fact that her lips were clamped shut. She stood, wide-eyed, prying at her lips and whimpering as they wouldn't budge.

"It's okay Snookie-Bear! Just a minor case of cold feet, is all!" Beetle remarked, before forcefully linking his arm in hers as he unlocked the chained door, watching the hysterical crowd flee for their lives, nearly killing each other in the process. He grinned as the last person scrambled off, followed by the swarm he'd created.

Now that the room was dark and empty of partygoers, he snapped his fingers, watching what's-his-face and his pet Bimbo fall to the floor, no longer inhibited by his power. "Alright, Suckers. Party's over. Now get outta here before I change my fuckin' mind!" he cursed, watching the two former prisoners flee as well.

Beetle grinned maliciously, turning back to his bride-to-be. "Look how far we've come, Hunny-Bunny! Seems like just a few minutes ago we'd just met! And, now, here we are!" he spoke, feigning a lovey-dovey voice, just to amuse himself, as she continued to whimper and struggle. "Well, this is it..." he said, as a long, red carpet rolled out to meet them at the end of the room, and a strange, alien-like priest appeared at the other end behind a pulpit.


	31. Indecent Exposure

Chapter 31: Indecent Exposure

Lydia stumbled behind a rapidy-pacing Juno, noting that the structure of the apartment seemed to have shifted due to Beetle's plans. She rubbed the ring, still in shock, while walking in silence down a newly-formed long, winding corridor with a red carpet strung along the floor.

"Pssst...Uh, hey! Deetz! I need you and tubby boy out here pronto! Can't get this show on the road without witnesses, if ya get mah drift!" Beetle's voice somehow echoed inside her mind, sending a strange surge of electricity through her body.

Too fearful to try and reply, she simply continued following the angry woman, head hung low and feeling both fear and regret. She'd tried to help her friend, and now she'd failed him miserably, all due to a stupid, drunken error. She worried just how Beetle would respond once he realized the terrible secret she'd just come to know. Since she was a dead woman, he'd probably never get out. Jail time was likely the only thing he would be guaranteed, and that, too, was all her fault.

Lydia sighed, squeezing the ring and pulling in one last, frantic effort to pull it off, only to be juiced very, very strongly. "AH!" she yelped, as Juno turned, glaring. Lydia quickly threw a hand over her lips.

"Mrs. Juice, you can't take it off! I already told you! If you didn't want to marry him, you shouldn't have put it on!" she scolded, pointing a cigarrette in Lydia's face.

"T-that wasn't why I was trying to take it off..." Lydia admitted, partly out of desperation.

"Then why, Mrs. Juice?" Juno asked, her face contorted into a look of pure confusion.

"I guess...I was just hoping I could fix it for him...Before it was too late." she admitted, knowing full and well that Juno would realize just how crazy she was, and really not caring about that at all.

Juno began to appear shocked. "I can't believe it...I never thought I'd see the day...You really care about that numbskull, don't you?"

Lydia sighed, shrugging. "Yeah. He's a good friend of mine. I didn't mean to ruin his plans."

Juno's appearance softened to one of what seemed to be pity. "C'mon, let's get this over with before it's too late..."

Lydia nodded, her heart now dropping into her stomach, as she fell in line behind Juno once more.

"DEETZ! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?! DON'T LEAVE ME HANGIN' HERE! YOU! JERRY! WITNESSES! NOW!" Lydia's eyes grew wide, hearing Beetle's angry, hurried voice in her mind once more, causing her to wring her hands and sweat.

Suddenly, there was a dim, greenish light at the end of the dark corridor. She could hear the ominous sound of a pipe organ in the distance as it rang out the Wedding March.

As they drew into the light, Lydia gulped. This was it, whether she liked it or not...

* * *

Beetle tapped his foot impatiently, with his now hand-cuffed bride struggling by his side. Pesky dame tried to run away twice already. He had to wrangle that problem in _real_ quick.

"C'mon, Deetz, I don't have all fuckin' day here..." he growled, squeezing the ring tightly in a fist at his side.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Juice?" the strange, alien-priest slowly drawled.

"Heh? ME? PROBLEM?! HELL NAW! Just a teeny-tiny, miniscule setback, that's all!" Beetle reassured, dabbing at the sweat forming on his grungy brow. _Shit!_ Deetz and fatboy needed to arrive _now_! He couldn't just stand there and wait until the cops tracked his ass!

"Ah, fuck it!" he spat, poofing his two prisoners back into the room, each chained to a chair with their eyelids taped open widely and their mouths gagged. "Okay! Witnesses! Now lets do this!" he chimed, as the priest began.

"Eh-hem...We are gathered here today..." he drawled again, his monotone voice enough to make Beetle chew his own arm off.

"Yeah, yeah! Enough of that! Cut to the good bits, Rev!" he barked, as the priest sighed, turning a few pages in his large tome and placing his bony finger on a certain spot.

"You may now place the ring upon your bride's finger..." he ordered, as Beetle cackled victoriously, doing just that. To make matters even better, the chick didn't even struggle. It felt good to break one's spirit so early in the marriage!

"Okay, okay! C'MON! SPEED IT UP!" Beetle growled, as the priest closed the tome.

"You may now kiss the bride..."

"HAHAHA! PUCKER UP, DOLLFACE!" he grinned, pulling the broad into him and laying the biggest, wettest kiss on her that he could muster. In the back of his mind he thought of Lydia, and how much better her drunken kiss felt, but he quickly shoved that one back into the pits of hell for now.

He chuckled when she wiped her face in disgust, and roared when he heard those great, victorious words.

"I now pronounce you man and wife!"

He belly laughed, stepping down from his bride and waiting for that huge-ass portal to show up and take him to wherever in the world he wanted in the land of the living. Maybe somewhere tropical like Hawaii. Or the Bermuda Triangle. Hell, he wasn't picky.

"Okay, open up for the Ole' B-man! C'mon!" he looked about, waiting for his precious escape. "Uh...C'mon...HEY! WHERE THE HELL ARE YA?!" he screeched, beginning to panic. Why the fuck was this not happening?

Suddenly, something did appear, but it wasn't his beautiful, luscious portal. It was his ugly, gross case worker. _Fuck._

"AGH! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT!" he yelled, wondering why fate just took a big, hairy dump on his afterlife.

"It's not gonna work for you, Juice. Now, cut the crap and turn everything back to the way it was before the police get here." she stated, raising a hand and freeing the young woman, who ran out the door, screaming for her life.

"The fuck'd ya do that fer?" he asked, completely dumbfounded. "And just why won't it work? Ya think yer so smart..."

"Well I'm smarter than you, Juice. That's not the right ring. It has no enchantment at all. It's a fraud." she stated, as he found himself completely lost for words. Well, _almost._

"Fraud?! Then where's the real one?" he grumbled, scratching his head in confusion.

Suddenly, another figure hesitantly stepped out from the shadows. It was Deetz. Her head was lowered, staring at her feet, as she timidly raised her hand, showing him the ring. The _real_ ring.


	32. The Ugly Truth

Chapter 32: The Ugly Truth

"I-I'm sorry..." was all she could bring herself to say. She couldn't even look at him, for fear of seeing his anger, or worse, his hatred. Sure, she was used to his tantrums over previous, stupid things, but this was his dream. And she'd ruined it. _Forever._

"Alright Junes, why is Deetz wearin' that? Is this some kind of trick to get me to behave or some shit? You talk her into backstabbin' me so I wouldn't break the law again?" he growled, and Lydia sensed his anger. She felt it. It flowed through her like hot electricity. She also felt something _different._ Something very _strange._

"No, Juice. Frankly, I could care less about tricking you. I came here to get you to stop this mess, so you wouldn't wind up in solitary for a good thousand years. I had no idea Mrs. Juice was already wearing your ring. As a matter of fact, I just discovered that one, myself." she explained, sucking on her cigarette, the smoke from it burning Lydia's nostrils and adding to her nausea.

"Mrs. Juice?!" he yelped, the tone of his voice exasperated and perhaps defenseless. Maybe even horrified. Beetlejuice. _Horrified_. Lydia tensed, never thinking she'd see that day, let alone be the cause of it. "Lydia, that true? You took my ring? That hag's lying, ain't she?"

As soon as he'd asked those questions, Lydia could hear the faint sound of sirens coming from somewhere unknown, causing her to tense even further. She didn't want to look at him, let alone tell him.

"Lydia?" he asked again, seeming completely baffled, and causing another strange tingle to run through her body, pooling up inside her chest.

"Hurry, Mrs. Juice. Tell him before the cops arrive. They're almost here." Juno said from beside her.

Lydia sighed in defeat, looking up and meeting his eyes. His face was blank and virtually unreadable, but the strange, hot electricity still pooled inside her chest. "I did put it on...I had no idea it had any power, or I wouldn't have stopped you. I didn't mean to do this, BJ..."

Lydia, who had dropped her gaze back to the ring, briefly glanced up to see his eyes narrow, as if he were deliberating on something unknown to her. "Why'd you do that?" he asked, low and emotionless.

 _Shit, this was scary._ "Um...I got really wasted while you were away, and I wanted to try it on..." she pathetically explained, noting that he still didn't look satisfied by her answer.

Lydia jumped slightly, as the sirens began to grow louder and louder.

"C'mon, why'd you put it on, Lydia...I'm runnin' outta time, here!" he demanded, his voice rising over the sound of sirens, as his expression grew a bit fearful.

Lydia felt like a cornered animal at this point, bracing herself and closing her eyes tightly. "Shit! Fine, BJ! I was drunk and pretending to be married to you, so I put the stupid ring on! I'm sorry I fucked you over! You can tell them it's my fault if you want. I'm the one that ruined everything!" she admitted, feeling completely and utterly dejected and foolish.

* * *

Sirens. The only thing Lydia could hear was the blaring sound of sirens, as a ghoulish squad began to materialize in the room. She looked to Juno, who's eyes were fixed upon Beetle, who stood up by the altar, his eyes fixed upon Lydia herself.

 _Shit_. She was in for it. He'd probably have her thrown in jail now because she'd thoroughly pissed him off. But then again, she did ruin his afterlife forever. Maybe her sentence wouldn't be too long, given this was her first offence. Maybe. Then again, she'd already been penalized coming into the afterlife. On second thought, she may have been fucked.

Lydia gulped as the police swarmed around Beetle, telling him to put his hands up. The same went for Lydia, who quickly complied. "Okay, what's happened here, Juno? What crime did you call us over for?"

Lydia watched, as Juno calmly sucked on her smoke. "Mr. Juice was scaring mortals on the other side, which he is strictly prohibited from doing, as he is on probation."

Lydia's eyes grew wide, realizing that it was Juno herself who admittedly called said police in the first place, possibly to protect herself since she was his case worker, after all. Even more of a shock to her, was that Juno was blatantly omitting parts of the truth in order to protect Beetlejuice. It was all so strange, as Lydia was sure that those two hated each other. Maybe it was just to reduce her workload. Who knew?

A cop looked over to Lydia. "And who is this? Did she play a part in all of this?"

Juno shook her head, blowing smoke. "No. She's just another client that was with me when I made the mandatory police call. I took her with me so we could continue our work when all of this was finished. It's all unrelated."

"Alright then. As his case worker, I'll just need you to sign here and here." another cop continued, walking up to Juno with a clipboard, as she signed the designated areas.

"Okay, Mr. Juice. We'll need you to come with us." A cop stated, cuffing him with some strange, glowing handcuffs, as another read him his rights. The whole time, Lydia watched as he calmly surrendered, which was completely uncharacteristic of someone like him. Soon, a strange police car formed in a cloud of smoke, and just before Beetle was escorted in, he turned and met eyes with her one final time.

Lydia was frowning, as her eyes caught hold of his own, and he was surprisingly, very, ever so slightly smirking. That worried her to no end.

And before she could say another word or make another movement, the car, cops and all, had vanished, leaving she and Juno alone. In silent darkness.

"C-can I come out now?"A timid voice quipped from a shadowy corner of the apartment.

"Come on out, Gerald Lunder. He's gone." Juno ordered, as the portly little man emerged from the shadows, where he'd apparently been hiding.

"S-so, is my problem solved?" he asked, wiping at his sweaty brow.

"They won't be back. Believe me, once Juice has left his mark on an area, they stay away. Your sentence will be served here in peace, Mr. Lunder. Now, c'mon Mrs. Juice. Let me escort you home." Juno stated, and in a puff of cough-inducing smoke, they both vanished.

* * *

It was night in the Neitherworld, as Lydia appeared outside the Roadhouse with Juno at her side. The smoke from her cigarette filled the air, as Lydia gazed at Beetle's home.

"Well, here you are, Mrs. Juice." she stated plainly, stepping up to the door.

Lydia paused, feeling deeply troubled for her friend. "Is he going to be locked away for a long time for this?" she asked, braced for the horrible answer to come.

"Nah...Not with the evidence I'll present in court. By law, I have to call the cops when I get a complaint on one of my clients. Since he technically was only tormenting people and not trying to jump into the living realm since you had his ring, he'll probably get a decade or so at best." she explained calmly, blowing smoke into the night air, as Lydia watched it rise up.

"A decade?!" Lydia gasped. Thank goodness it wasn't longer, but ten years seemed steep just for scaring people.

"Yes! A decade! And, believe me, that asshole deserved a lot more! I know what he's been up to this whole time - fooling around with you, wreaking havoc on your ex-fiance! Yes, I knew about that, too! He's just lucky that I don't have time to fool with his ass! And he's damned lucky to have you, Lydia Juice! You may think you ruined his afterlife, but you really saved his hide. Even if the nincompoop had made it out, he'd be thrown in solitary as soon as his little joyride ended. With his record, he'd get the steepest penalty imaginable. The judge has seen his ass enough times to want to personally exorcise him. I know he thought he could just keep scamming the living to keep out of here, but it would only last so long...Believe me, Lydia. Time is different here. Ten years is like ten months. You'll see him again in no time." she explained.

"I...don't know if he'd want to see _me_ again, after all that." Lydia admitted, feeling guilty as she eyed the ring on her finger.

"Oh, I think he will. Besides, you have to help me testify against him in court. You were a supposed witness, along with myself. You have no choice but to see him very soon, Mrs. Juice." she declared, causing Lydia's insides to twist.

"Oh god... _Against_ him? He'll hate me forever, now..." she moaned, rubbing her forehead in frustration.

"No, Juice won't hate you. Believe me. He's been a con artist for centuries. He knows what I'm doing is saving his sorry ass! He won't say a word. If he's _smart._ " she snorted. "Well, enough of this chit-chat. I have a stack of paperwork at the office that isn't filling out itself. I'll notify you when to show up and I'll brief you on what to say."

And with those words, she dissipated, leaving Lydia alone with her confusion.


	33. See Ya Around

Chapter 33: See Ya Around

It was the day of Beetle's sentencing. Lydia sat on the other side of the delapidated courtroom, trying her best not to look at him as the withered judge called him, preparing the verdict.

Lydia's mind raced, feeling a mixture of guilt and fear. She truly hated to think that he'd despise her forever, and she knew she was completely insane just for those thoughts. She was insane for caring about the crazy poltergeist in the first place, for thinking about being married to him, drunkenly putting on his ring, and the list went on.

The judge called for the whole court to stand, and being lost in her thoughts, Lydia almost didn't, until Juno tugged on her sleeve, alerting her to do just that. She stood, inhaling and preparing to deal with the damage.

She glanced over to Beetle, who was wearing his signature striped-suit again, standing and calmly awaiting the verdict. Hopefully he wouldn't go ballistic or anything. Hopefully. And hopefully he wouldn't hate her forever. Hopefully. She began to feel that strange, warm electric feeling building inside of her chest again, and it was disturbing her more than ever now. Just what was going on with that?

"I hearby sentence you, Betel, to one decade of Neitherworld high-security prison. During this sentence, you are allowed one visit and zero other calls via phone, telekinesis, or other paranormal venues of communication. You will be released ten years from today's date."

Lydia watched him closely, as he stood, completely calm as he was again cuffed, and taken into custody. It was so unlike him to be so docile, that Lydia worried to the point of breaking. It was at the moment she most wanted to scream, that he briefly glanced her way, and she froze, feeling static fly all over her body. And there was that smirk. That tiny, ever-so-slight smirk.

* * *

Lydia stood in the checkered hallway, as Juno stepped up to her. "I've spoken to the judge. You can go see Juice now. You'll have ten minutes once you enter his holding chamber."

"Me? Why'd you tell him I was wanting to see him? He's gonna murder me! Again!" she gasped, internally freaking out in every way possible.

"It's mandatory. They have record that you're now his wife. You are permitted to see him once, so I wouldn't waste it. Say whatever you need to, cause it'll be the last time you see that numbskull for a while. And I wouldn't worry about his feelings too much, if I were you. You've always been too soft, Mrs. Juice. That's why you're with this baffoon in the first place. That dirtbag is lucky he has you. If he's smart, he won't do anything stupid to screw things up. Now go, Mrs. Juice. Then I'll escort you home and this'll all be over for a while. And for god's sake, when he gets out, try to keep him from breaking the law again!" she sighed, blowing smoke with every breath.

* * *

Lydia stood beside an officer who's undead body was already full of bullet holes, holding her breath and waiting for the high security door to open. She half-wondered if she would come out at all. Maybe Beetle would spontaneously combust her once she entered his cell. Maybe that's why he was smirking - possibly plotting which method of incineration would be more enjoyable.

The only thing combatting her fear and intense, possibly uncalled for guilt, was the strange electric hum inside her chest again. It was warm and strangely soothing, and she was increasingly disturbed by its presence.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the door buzzed.

"Mrs. Juice. You have ten minutes." the officer stated, before gesturing for her to enter.

Her undead heart raced as she stepped in the dimly-lit room. She could see his shadow sitting on a bench in the corner, his form chained to the wall with more of those glowing cuffs. She panicked, frozen in place, unable to go any closer, for fear of his possible rage. Sure, she was used to it before, but this was afterlife-ruining shit she was dealing with. His anger could be _far_ worse.

"Well, well, well...If it ain't Mrs. Lydia _Juice_...Heh heh..." he chuckled, as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

That was all it took. Uncontrollably, she began to spill it. Word vomit. Like, literally, everywhere. "Oh, BJ! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to fuck everything up! If I'd have known all that, I would have never got drunk, and been so stupid, and put on that ring, and-" she began to sob, being the pure, crazy sap that she was. Juno was right, she was a big softy.

"Whoa, hold on, there Babe! Geeze...Ya don't have to go all Days of our Lives on me! Shit! A simple 'hi' coulda done it!" he said, exasperated. "Just, get over here! Sit down and quit...ugh...cryin' on me!" he said, rolling his eyes and motioning what little his chains would allow.

Lydia wiped at her eyes as she nodded in agreement, sitting beside him. As soon as she seated herself, the electric current seemed to triple in her body, shooting wildy and disturbing her even more.

"Heheh..." Beetle chuckled, as Lydia's face contorted in confusion. _What the hell?_

"What is it?" she asked, confused beyond measure.

"Ah it's nothin..." he smirked, this time very much, and very noticibly. "All that juice, and nowhere to go with it..." he remarked cryptically, bewildering Lydia even further.

"What the hell are you talking about, BJ?" she asked, now frustrated.

"Nevermind, Babe. So let me get this shit straight...I'm sittin' in the pin AGAIN, cause you got drunk and decided to fantasize about the ole' B-man! HAHAHAHA! Can't make that shit up!" he snorted obnoxiously, which somehow relieved Lydia.

"So...You don't want to burst me into flames for ruining your plan?" she asked, wincing.

"Well, I mean I could do that if ya feel like ya deserve it an' all..." he grinned, looking sly and devilish.

"Uh, no. That won't be necessary." she quickly replied, still wondering if he was joking or partly really considering it.

"Eh, wouldn't solve anything, anyhow..." he grinned, glancing at her from corner of his green eye. "Guess we're just stuck together now, Mrs. _Juice_. Hehe."

"Yeah. Guess so." she shrugged, half smiling and feeling wildly uncomfortable considering she was sitting in a high security prison next to a potentially loose cannon.

"Alright, enough of the small talk bullshit!" he blurted out, causing Lydia to nearly run out of the cell, screaming. "Tell me the truth, Lydia. I ain't seein' the light of day for ten years, and I'd bet my ass we got about five minutes left. Tell me about all this shit you done. Why'd ya really do it?" he demanded. Strangely, it wasn't all hostile. It was more desperate than anything. And, if anything, she did feel she owed him an answer.

She inhaled, and composed herself, nodding in agreement. "Okay. I really did get drunk, and I put on the ring - not knowing the consequences, mind you!" she added quickly to make that particular point, before continuing on. "I guess I felt bad for going back on our deal to scare Eugene. I didn't expect to flake out and let my emotions get in the way. I guess I just didn't have time to think about what you said, BJ."

"So? What'd ya think?" he asked, his brow raised in earnest curiosity.

"I...uh...wasn't _repulsed_ by it, if that's what you were thinking..." she answered, matter-of-factly in an attempt to satisfy him enough to get him to stop inquiring.

"C'mon, you can do better than that, Mrs. Juice!" he taunted. Attempt failed.

"Fine! Geeze...I guess I thought it wouldn't be so bad..." she admitted, folding her arms and turning away in embarrassment.

"So, ya wanted me, didn't ya?" he leaned in, speaking in her ear and causing her to scoot away.

"Hey, now I didn't say that! I said it wouldn't have been so bad to be married to you. And...truthfully...you're a good friend, BJ. You've really helped me out. I'm just sorry I couldn't do the same for you." she said, hoping he wouldn't derail her serious conversation.

"Eh, coulda been worse." he shrugged. "If it weren't for you and old crevice-mug out there, I'd be lucky to get outta here at all." he mused, seeming to quit the bullshit for once.

There was a brief, nearly awkward moment of silence between the two of them, before he turned to Lydia with a strangely serious look on his face. "So...ya think you can stand bein' with me for all eternity?" he asked, as that strange, small smirk returned on his features again.

She paused briefly, strangely caught off-guard by the honest question. "Yeah, why not?" Lydia smirked back. "So, do you forgive me...You know, for ruining everything forever?" she asked, partly joking, partly, truly wanting to know.

"Heh...Well, I'm already sittin' in here with my hands, quite literally, tied. Why the hell not?" he chuckled, and for some strange reason, Lydia believed him. She just knew, for some reason, that defied all logic, that he wasn't really angry with her. She could practically feel it in the air. In the energy around her.

"So...Mrs. Juice..." Beetle said, holding out his grimy hand as far as he could reach. "Compadres?"

Lydia grinned widely, both relieved and strangely happy. "Friends." she said, reaching out her own. And as her cold, undead skin touched with his own, a huge spark of electricity seemed to shoot from his hand into her whole being, causing her to nearly gasp.

The expression on his face as this happened was one of knowing something that she herself did not. And whatever it was, he seemed quite pleased with it. He simply chuckled to himself.

What was only a brief handshake seemed like an eternity, until the cell door buzzed, alerting that her time was over.

"So, wifey? How 'bout you lay one on the husband before ya go. I know you wanna..." he leered, his grin toothy and wide.

"I said _friends_ , BJ!" she chuckled, as the officer came in the room, signalling for her to leave.

A twinge of melancholy ran through her, as she glanced briefly back on her way out. "I guess I'll see you in ten years."

"Yup. I'll see ya 'round, Mrs. _Juice._.." he grinned, winking at her, as the door slammed shut.

As the space sealed between them, the surge of electricity had calmed to a tiny, almost undetectable hum. Strangely enough, she found herself a bit saddened by his capture. It seemed like the Neitherworld would be a little more dull without him around to liven it up.

"See? I told you he wouldn't hate you." Juno remarked, knocking the ashes from her smoke.

"Whew...I'm glad...I was a little worried there..." she admitted, the tension falling from her body.

"Hah! That meathead couldn't hate you if he tried!" Juno scoffed, turning and walking ahead of Lydia.

"Why do you say that?" Lydia questioned. Man, everybody was so confusing lately.

"Let's just say he's my client. I know things. Now, c'mon Mrs. Juice. Let's take you home."


	34. Ten Years Later (Epilogue)

Chapter 34: Ten Years Later...

(Epilogue)

Lydia sat at her childhood dinner table in Winter Rivers, hearing the crackling of fresh bacon and eggs. She smiled, sighing to herself as her eyes moved across the table. Adam sat tinkering with a small model ship, tediously attempting to place the last glue-encased piece through the neck of the bottle, while her father sat reading the morning paper.

"You want scrambled again, Lydia?" Barbara asked, flipping the ever-crisping bacon over.

"Charles, you just HAVE to see my new piece!" Delia came rushing in, apron covered in blood-red paint, which sort of made her look like a mass-murderer. It also sort of made Lydia snigger. "It's called Doom from the Womb!" she posed, arms out, in what seemed to be pure pride and cathartic bliss. "Just imagine this...we are born...to die...To suffer...To-"

"Yes, darling." Charles shot Lydia another _sweet holy terror, not again_ look, before standing up to go lay eyes on the potential abomination her step-mother had birthed into existence.

Delia used to be a living hell for her in her early years, but as she'd matured in life, she'd grown to love the woman. What used to be annoying in the past, had become amusing as an adult. And after death, it was just plain fucking _hilarious._

Lydia sighed, sipping on hot coffee and feeling grateful for being able to see and enjoy her family while BJ was away. BJ. Oh. _God._ Ten years had been coming up, now quicker than ever, and she'd come to a staggering realization as her eyes locked on the nearby calendar. She didn't know how the blue hell she'd done it, but she'd miscalculated his release date by one day. One day _too late_. She stiffened in her seat, full of panic.

She'd planned on meeting him upon his release tomorrow. But it wasn't tomorrow. It was today. As in a few hours ago. TODAY.

Lydia stood abruptly. "Um...Barbra...That won't be necessary...I gotta go...I kinda forgot something at home..."

"Now, Sugarpie, don't rush off!" Charles, returning from Delia's dose of fresh hell, commented as he stepped back into the kitchen.

"I know, Dad. I'm sorry, but it's really important..." _Oh, shit,_ Lydia swallowed hard. She'd not once told them about her...uh...spouse...and just who it was. And she instantly fucking regretted it.

At the time, it just seemed a hell of a lot easier to not tell everyone in her family, since they all pretty much hated his guts. Maybe she should have spent at least the last year trying to convince them BJ was a good guy.

"Well I gotta go...I'll be back later-"

And that's when she stopped, frozen in place, ready to shit her pants in every sense of the word.

"Ah, ah, ah, Mrs. _Juice_!"

It was Beetlejuice. Standing right in front of her, casually adjusting the cuff of his grimy suit.

"Shit! I'm sorry. I thought that was tomorrow." she whispered apologetically, trying to be quiet enough so that her family wouldn't hear.

Not that it would help, as they were all staring, wide eyed, and mouths gaped to the floor.

"Well, wifey, we'll just have to work on our communication! Heh, three hours outta the brig, an' we're already gonna have to go to couples' therapy! Nah, I'm just shittin' ya, Babe. But, like seriously, where the fuck were ya?" he leaned in, seeming a little disappointed.

"Um... _here_?" she replied, wincing and feeling really uncomfortable right about now.

"Ah, let bygones be bygones, my fair lady! AH! Chuckie, ole' boy! Or should I just call ya Pops? Dad? Pappy?" Beetle ran over to a mortified Charles, shaking his hand so hard that Lydia feared he might break it. Charles simply looked to Beetle, mouth still gaped, completely at a loss for words. "What, Chuck? Don't remember me? I'm yer son-in-law. Unless ya wanna' just call me son, and, just for the record I haven't actually deflowered our young Lydia. _..yet_." he leered, giving Lydia a sly wink.

Delia, who just scurried back in, immediately took one look at Beetle and passed out, falling to the floor with an unceremonious thud.

Barbara, fork ready in hand, marched up to Beetlejuice. "Just what the hell are you doing here?!"

"Well, Babs, if ya haven't figured it out yet, we got hitched! Fer _real_ this time! HAHAHA!" he laughed in her face, causing her to scowl deeply at him.

Adam stood, his soft look of disappointment already crumbling Lydia inside. "Is this true, Lydia?"

Barbara quickly turned her attention back to Lydia. "No way! This...This _pervert..."_ she spouted, poking her fork at him for added emphasis on the pervert part. "Probably weaseled his way in. He probably forced her into it!"

"Barbara...no..." Lydia spoke softly, shaking her head, bracing for backlash from all sides.

"No! No, what?!" Barbara yelled, confused.

"We _are_ married. And it was sorta...my idea...in a way..." she admitted, wincing. She briefly looked to Beetle, who's snigger turned to a glare when it met her eyes. Inside of her mind she could hear his voice: _"Maybe ya shoulda told 'em about me, Dearie..."_.

Lydia sighed, "Sorry..." she mouthed to him.

 _That's okay. You can make it up to me later..._ Formed in her mind, followed by a leering wink from her other half. Yep, pervert was about right.

She watched in horror, along with the others as Beetle grabbed her father's discarded newspaper off the kitchen table. He casually hummed to himself, stretching and pulling up a chair beside Adam's. He slowly seated himself, completely and purposely creating a spectacle as he sat down among her appalled family. He reclined back in the chair, propping his muddy boots on the table, and dropping copious amounts of filth in the process.

"So, uh, what's fer breakfast?"

The End

(For Now...)

* * *

 **Hello all!** _I'd like to thank everyone who made it this far. I hope my little fic entertained you. If not, I'm just grateful you tried it out. As I said, I wrote this a while back (maybe 2016-2017ish), and I just never really posted it. I loved both the movie and the cartoon (which I watched after school a lot in my childhood). I'm especially fond of the movie, and I find Beetlejuice to be absolutely hilarious, and Lydia was just awesome! It's one of my favorite movies of all time! I do have a sequel to this if anyone is interested, and I'll probably post it later on. I simply couldn't leave the idea of them together hanging like this. It was too tempting to go further. I tried to hurry and post the rest of the original, as I started a new job and the hours are a bit erratic. I was afraid I'd fall into not posting or writing again, so I just put it all out there. Anyway, a great big thanks to all who have taken the time to read this. I'd love to know what you think of it!_

 _Thanks everyone. Take care._

 _I'll see ya around ;-)_


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